Radioactive
by C.J.Ellison
Summary: It all begins innocently enough. And then James Tiberius Kirk has to go and make the colossal mistake of falling in love with Christopher Pike's niece. Matters only become more complicated from that point onwards: after all, the galaxy is a vast and dangerous place, and we all have our secrets to keep- even if we don't know it yet. [Kirk/OC, plus mentions of Spock/Uhura]
1. PART ONE - Chapter I: The Girl in Black

_**A/N: **Alright, so this is something I started on a complete whim in an attempt to work off my writer's block. I plan to upload a new chapter every Friday to force myself to work- but we all know that's probably not going to happen. Anyway: this follows the plotline of the new continuity and will cover both films, with some non-canon twists that you will probably see coming because I haven't thought this through extensively. It's kind of a relief, actually, not to have planned in excessive detail for once._

_Anyway- enjoy._

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** R-A-D-I-O-A-C-T-I-V-E**

PART ONE  
_Light Them Up_

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_"There's something beautiful and tragic in the fallout…"_

* * *

Chapter I  
_The Girl in Black_

_April 16, 2256 – California, Earth_

It began innocently enough. Or at least, as innocently as was possible when James Tiberius Kirk was factored into the equation.

The venue selected by the ever-capricious hand of fate, an obscure subterranean establishment known as Black Glass, was not one of his usual San Franciscan haunts. Neither one of his regular dives- as darkly rich in flavour and authentic as the whiskey they served, artfully weathered, thrumming with a positively ancient rock and roll soundtrack- nor amongst the sleek nightclubs of the inner city that subsisted on gaudily-hued cocktails, neon lights and pounding techno rhythms, the underground rooms of Black Glass fell somewhere in between. As a former historic crime den, the bar still possessed a mildly dubious reputation; that dark shadow of its illicit history was blended incongruously, however, with tasteful fixtures, a prime location and a décor of vanilla, dark walnut, and shades of sable to citrus orange that made its interior glow as though lit with embers. Innocuous to the authorities, pulling in a decent trade- just enough to sink a newcomer into the anonymity of a humming atmosphere, but not enough to disturb said loner in their musings- the atmosphere was pleasant, and the liquor inexpensive.

Which, tonight, suited Kirk just fine.

The Starfleet Academy cadet couldn't have cared less about the finer details of how he had found this particular, unfamiliar, bar. All that mattered to him was drowning out all emotion with hard spirits- a mission in which he was currently succeeding. Already heavily inebriated by the time he arrived, after about six more glasses of his selected poison his heart felt thoroughly numbed, his mind was silenced, and a hollow heat had begun to mask the tangle of rage and confusion and regret inside him. Kirk's tolerance level might have been far above that of his Human peers, but with the volume of alcohol seeping into his system, it was a minor biochemical miracle that he could still see straight.

An even greater miracle was how he managed to dodge the punch thrown at him the second he turned away from the bar to see who had tapped his shoulder. Starfleet Academy training kicked in the space of the millisecond he registered a set of knuckles aimed at his jaw, and the brawl exploded to a concerto of shattering glass and pained grunts.

Though he would barely remember the fact in the morning, the fight was- for once- not Kirk's fault. Its main instigator had been harassing one of the more waifish female bartenders earlier, to the point where Kirk simply couldn't ignore it any longer- he was a shameless womaniser, true enough, but he operated on strict rules of etiquette: when somebody clearly told you _no,_ you respected them and backed off- and anyone that didn't abide by that simple social grace deserved to be taught better manners. Even as drunk as he was, Jim took great pleasure in effortlessly pinioning the creep's arm behind his shoulder until the bouncer arrived to eject him, leaving Kirk to bask in the gratitude of the bartender and the free drink she offered. He might have easily talked her into bed, pretty and pliable as she looked, but Kirk had gracefully opted out and allowed her to get back to work.

Only thirty minutes later, the aforementioned creep returned with four flunkies in tow, salivating for a fight.

Kirk was only too happy to give it to them.

He dodged a blow, delivering a vicious kick to his current assailant's sternum, and ducking another inelegant punch from behind. Adrenaline blended with anger and whiskey, and he flipped one man over his shoulder smoothly, slamming him to the ground with such force that the unspoilt glassware on the nearby tables shuddered. It was just then, as he was about to turn back into the fray, that a sudden burst of pain exploded across his back and the force knocked him off his feet, his head spinning. He let out a groan. Someone had hit him from behind with a _chair_, or at least something that felt very much like it. He pushed himself up on his palms unsteadily- vaguely aware that the floor was covered in shards of broken glass, and that his leather jacket had not entirely protected him- and noted in his periphery that an indistinct shadow was about to kick him in the ribs.

And then, suddenly, he wasn't- a happy shift in his circumstances, since he hadn't even thought to brace for the blow. Kirk heard a male cry of pain and forced himself to look up.

The figure he saw moved faster than he could comprehend. Svelte, silken, jet-black, as though made of shadow, in a few fluid vehement movements they had disabled Kirk's remaining opponents with an almost effortless efficiency. Kirk struggled to his find his feet, speechless, his mind moving slowly as he watched the figure calmly step over a prone body, up to the bar. They unfolded a small sheaf of large bills onto the countertop- he thought he heard them flippantly say something about it being for the damages- and then started in surprise as they turned on him, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and unceremoniously steered him out of the backdoor.

It was only when he was dragged out into the alleyway behind Black Glass, cold Californian night air sweeping across his body and the slam of a metal door at his back, that he overcame his initial shock. Wrenching himself away from the figure, Jim brushed remnants of glass and a rapidly congealing residue of beer from his sleeves irritably.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded, inexplicably annoyed.

"James Tiberius Kirk?"

The voice cut the air, English accented, sharp as steel- and unmistakably feminine. Kirk blinked, shrugging his jacket straight over his shoulders, and looked at the stranger properly for the first time. The _figure_ was, in fact, a young woman- very human and very beautiful, in an elegantly angular way. Her long dark hair was bound up in a sleek French braid, swept away from her face, a few rogue strands escaping around her high cheekbones and ears, hinting at the existence of currently restrained fringe. Her eyes were sharp, a shade of breathtakingly frosty blue, tastefully accentuated with an outline of ebony kohl. She was dressed entirely in black- a high-necked leather jacket, skinny jeans and stiletto-heeled boots that reached her knees. Her fragile physique and small stature utterly belied the ease with which she had defeated his assailants.

Jim realised, when she arched an expectant eyebrow at him, that he was staring, quite unashamedly. He blamed that last shot of tequila.

"Who wants to know?" He asked churlishly.

"It _is_ you," she responded, flatly. "And to think- he was so worried I wouldn't catch up to you in time. He should have had a little more faith."

"_He_?" Kirk scoffed, his head beginning to ache. "I- look, okay, not that I'm not grateful for, you know, _that_-" He waved an arm at the emergency exit, almost breaking his wrist against the wall with the sheer carelessness of the gesture, "which, by the way, I would have got out of just fine without you- just saying- but I have no idea what's going on here. Who the hell _are_ you?"

The young woman- she was really more of a _girl_, now that Kirk was looking at her properly; no older than twenty, but certainly younger than him, at least- observed him shrewdly, a spark of something oddly akin to curiosity in her eyes.

"Call me the friend of a friend of yours," she said eventually. "I was sent to do damage limitation on their behalf. Apparently, there was no point in trying to stop you from attempting to induce alcohol poisoning, but let it never be said that I won't take on a challenge every now and again. Essentially, I'm just here to prevent you from causing too much destruction to yourself, your liver, your future career… and the planet as a whole, naturally. In other words- suit up, cadet. I'm dragging your ass home."

Kirk snorted. His former sense of blind arrogance was flowing back into him, resurrected in the wake of his current lack of concern for anything in particular- except another shot. "Oh yeah? Listen, this has been nice and all- in fact, I'd really like to get your number or something- but go tell your friend that I don't need their help, okay? I'm just _fine_. I'm going to leave now. Later. Great to meet you."

Before he could take so much a single swaggering step away, Kirk found his arm held in a firm grip. Piercing blue eyes stared up into him.

"I could just knock you out," she said coldly, her fingers both slender and unyielding. "You saw what I did in there- what I am capable of. None of your aptitude test results or combat training will help you against me- as astounding as they all are, I'll admit."

The comment, for some reason, gave him pause. "Wait. Hey, you know about- that? About me?"

"Naturally." Her tone was dissonantly casual, as though they were discussing the matter over coffee and high tea, rather than in a dank alley after a bar fight. "James Tiberius Kirk, command specialism, resident arrogant bastard of Starfleet Academy- although, has actually earned the right to be, comparatively speaking. Walked into enrolment last summer, passed on raw charm and intellect alone, skipped an entire academic year without so much as trying, and currently in the top three percent of all of his classes." Her head quirked to one side, the traces of an aloof smile playing at her mouth. "You would really be more impressive if you showed a little humility, you know."

Jim found himself grinning. "Humility's boring."

The subtle Mona-Lisa coil of her mouth grew, just slightly, and Kirk enjoyed the view for a moment. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear neatly, resolved. "Alright. I'll even try asking nicely, if that's what it will take. _Please_. You have a golden Starfleet career in the making. Come with me back to the academy. Let me sterilise those cuts- otherwise they'll most likely go septic with the things that go on in bars like these. Besides, you and I both know that you're going to struggle to find another drink tonight."

"I could give it a shot," Kirk said blithely.

The smile became sardonic. "No you couldn't."

Kirk opened his mouth to deliver a witty retort, and instead found that his façade began to crack. He realised, painfully, that she had inexplicably worn him down. He knew that she was probably right: all he would do, even if he did somehow escape this hyper-competent stranger, was aimlessly wander the empty streets of San Francisco, his mind sobering and his heart increasingly heavy. Moreover- with that pitiful mental image now firmly ingrained in his head- he suddenly didn't _want_ to say no.

Jim closed his mouth, and sighed.

"Got a ride?"

She turned on her heel, hair gleaming like spun onyx. "Follow me."

Kirk did as she asked, keeping his pace steady and straight solely by tracking the natural sway of her hips, watching her immaculate braid brushing in a pendulum at the small of her back. She led them though winding back-alleys, skirting around concrete corners and past miscellaneous shadows, until she finally came to a halt at a black chrome bike- sleek, streamlined and darkly gleaming, much like its owner. Kirk loosed a whistle, low and impressed, as she approached and pulled the ignition from her pocket. He had long since grown tired of the allure of mere objects, but he could still appreciate a beautiful piece of machinery and craftsmanship when he saw it, and this particular vehicle looked to be in perfect condition.

"Ah, sweet."

She opened the seamlessly hidden compartment in the back and tossed him her spare helmet, her own swinging from her other hand by its straps. He caught it, barely, fumbling as he summoned up the last vestiges of his usual dexterity to snag its rim. "Put that on. I'm not going to let you get a concussion if you fall off. That is, unless you already have one. And hurry up." She gestured to her boots, and the absurdly thin three-inch heel. "These shoes hurt."

Kirk grinned. "Heels not your thing?" He asked brazenly, pulling the sphere of moulded metal over his head and snapping it into place.

The girl in black looked entirely unimpressed, locking down his visor for him, causing Kirk's sight to suddenly be tinted with intense dark indigo before the clear screen automatically adjusted to the low light. "_Stilettoes_ aren't my thing. Too flimsy to walk on. Come on, get on."

Kirk straddled the hoverbike behind her, placing his hands at her waist, the taut leather of her jacket hinting at the supple body underneath.

"Hold on. _And keep your hands there if you value your limbs intact_."

Kirk barely had time to grin to himself before she kicked off the ground, and the bike rose, glowing and purring to life, shooting off at spectacular speed. His grip instinctively tightened around her, his broad chest pressing to her back, but she didn't complain, verbally or otherwise. San Francisco and its waning night life rushed past them in a smear of bright light and flickers of mangled sound, the cold air forming a strong slipstream around them. Revelling in the feeling of travelling, boundless, at such a high velocity after so long, Kirk relaxed and tipped his head back to look up at the sky moving almost imperceptibly above them. Specialised light-filtration shields surrounding Starfleet Academy cancelled out most of the ambient city light, allowing an unimpeded view of the stars for the cadets working towards serving amongst them; dulled and blunted with alcohol, his mind couldn't trace out the ancient constellations, or provide him with the details of which of the distant specks of light were solar objects and which were distant planets, and instead forced him to appreciate its beauty alone, independent of scientific, millennia-old astronomical classifications. He could see the faint band of milk-white translucent light that had given the galaxy its name, the one for whom the very word _galaxy_ in Standard Federation English had been coined so very long ago.

His heart seemed to simultaneously implode and soar.

"We're here."

Kirk levelled his gaze.

They were coasting towards one of the outer walls of the academy, and one of the more isolated entry checkpoints- a security measure that was more of a mild precaution than anything, with the planet's safety higher than most, especially in the very heart of what was so often called the Federation's city. Still, she drew up short of their destination, pulling the hoverbike up against the kerb, under the thick shadow of a row of indigenous trees, and switched off the ignition. The silence seemed to seethe, crisp and clean and full of the scent of spring.

Kirk climbed off the bike, discovering the minute he tried to stand that he must have drank more than he thought- he had lost track, eventually. The girl caught him before he could stumble and smash head-first against the pavement, slinging his arm around her narrow shoulders.

"I, uh, thanks," he muttered, still sober enough to be abashed, as they began walking.

"Don't mention it," she replied, with only the slightest discernible trace of sarcasm.

They somehow managed to make it to the checkpoint without injury, the energy shield refracting light in a shimmering web against the pale grey stone walkways and the sculpted segments of grass interspersed between. Lifting Kirk's identification card from his back pocket, the girl in black swiped it through the scanner, triggering the fingerprint pad to slide into appearance and, apparently not trusting his hand-eye coordination at present any more than he did, physically took Jim's right hand in her own and pressed his palm against the surface, waiting until it beeped obediently. A designated section of the shields dropped.

"Isn't there usually a guard on duty around here?" Kirk mused aloud, glancing at the small subtle terminal beside the deactivated gate, noting that it was conspicuously unattended.

"Usually, yes." The girl steadied Kirk on his feet and, once assured that he wouldn't drop the minute she released him, turned to the station. Uncomprehending, he watched as she calmly picked the lock on the door and reached over, entering something into the gently glowing screen inside.

"Uh- what are you-?"

"Cleaning."

She pulled away and snapped the door shut. Before he could ask anything further, she was hauling his arm over her shoulder again and they were continuing on, and Kirk quickly forgot about the incident.

The grounds were quiet. Most of the cadets were diurnal, as were the teachers and lecturers; those that were awake, burning the midnight oil and either sprinting towards a thesis deadline or else just trying to grasp something unclear from an earlier class, were inside and blissfully oblivious to the unusual pair trekking across the smooth lawns. Still, the girl in black chose to take a more secluded route, dousing them both in shadow and the safety of obscurity. They reached the Apollo Building- each accommodations block at the academy received their name from an ancient Terran god or goddess- and took the glass elevator up, the doors gliding open at the eighth floor. Kirk gestured towards his room and found himself swiftly nudged through the door.

"Lights," the girl commanded the minute he was over the threshold. "Sixty percent." The room was instantly illuminated, enough to see with clarity but enough not worsen Kirk's growing headache- something for which he was profoundly grateful. "Hm. Roommate not in?"

"Nah," Jim sank down onto his bed behind the partition, running his fingers through his hair as she checked the tiny bathroom nonetheless. Satisfied, she returned. "Bones had some kind of medical- retreat- _thing_. I have no idea. But he's gone for the week, so-"

"Don't say what I know you're thinking, because then I _will_ be forced to punch you."

Kirk chuckled, even more mellow than usual. "You know something? I think I really like you."

The girl looked both flattered and somewhat surprised by his admission, unpacking several silvery medical instruments from a black messenger bag that Kirk hadn't noticed; something that she must have been retrieved from the back of her bike- while replacing their helmets, he suddenly realised. _Hell. I really _am_ drunk to have blanked that._ "I, ah- thank you, I suppose. Um- jacket off, please. I need to check you out."

Kirk refrained from making the obvious joke, settling for a wide lazy grin instead, which she replied to with an exquisitely sarcastic lifting of her brow. She ran a small device over the air surrounding his head; Jim followed her shadow out of the corner of his eye as the instrument confirmed that there was no concussion or permanent serious damage. His vitals were steady, she informed him coolly, so they could avoid a trip to the medical bay. The girl then set to work on cleaning and sealing the many superficial cuts he had sustained in the chaos, tweezing splinters of glass from the lacerations on his knuckles. She was gentle, Kirk noticed, watching her work- meticulous, deft, observant. The very second he winced, a jagged piece of glass snagging on living skin, she was immediately more careful, her touches becoming lighter on his calloused hands.

Finally, as she was daubing a clear gloss over his cuts- something to speed healing dramatically and keep out infection, she had said, though Kirk hadn't been listening that attentively- she spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Huh?" Jim had been too busy examining the delicious curve of her neck and collarbone, exposed from her unzipped jacket as she leaned forwards. "About what?"

"Whatever it was that made you want to cause yourself liver failure."

Kirk tensed instantly.

"No."

"Okay."

She didn't push the issue further. Instead, she simply bandaged up his hands with a strip of clean cotton each, and ordered him to remove his shirt so she could check his back where one of his attackers had hit him with the chair- it _had_ been a chair, apparently, a predictably underhanded bar fight move, and the girl in black sounded almost disappointed at their utter lack of creativity. She confirmed that there was a bruise forming in a vicious red streak along his shoulders, deep, though nothing that she couldn't draw out with a decent salve.

Her fingertips ran along tracts of smooth muscle, tracing out the shape for him. Kirk closed his eyes at the contact, a series of shivers running through his flesh.

"It was my mother," he found himself blurting out hollowly as she applied a scoop of waxy, frozen balm to the bruise. "She- I found out that she died today."

All movement behind him froze.

"Oh." A hand rested against his shoulder, small and steady. "I'm sorry."

Jim shook his head in reply. "No, it's- no. I don't- you don't have to- I mean, we haven't been close for a while. _Years_. I mean, she was always off-planet, and my stepfather was a prick and my brother left, so what was I supposed to do? I guess I checked in every so often, after, but- we weren't- I don't know." He was already rambling by this point, the words spilling out without thought or consent, but the girl dressed in black didn't seem to mind all that much. She quietly continued to work, smearing the thick salve across his back. The unnamed concoction seeming to seep into his skin instantly, the formula setting a prickling sensation wherever it touched. "I never understood why she married him, you know, my stepfather. My brother always said that she had no idea what he was like when she was away, or maybe she wanted a new dad for us, but I never really understood why she wanted to replace him, I know she didn't really love _him_- my stepfather, I mean, not my dad. I mean, of course she _loved_ my dad. Like, serious _love_. Everyone said so. Frank was like a stand-in. Just- _there_. Filling empty space. I don't understand how a woman as fantastic and kind as her could just- _argh_." The frustration overwhelmed him, rendering him silent.

There was a moment of stillness. The girl said nothing- _listening_, Jim realised belatedly, with some surprise. She was patiently listening to his grieving, drunken, half-coherent words as though they mattered. The shock of the idea was enough to spur him on, unthinking.

"I really loved her, you know. Really. I did. She just- I just didn't like _him_. I said some things I didn't mean sometimes. _More_ than sometimes. And I left the state without so much as telling her… The last time I even spoke to her properly was months back." He swallowed. "When I told her about Starfleet."

Long elegant fingers moved over his shoulder blades, soothingly. "I bet she was proud of you," the girl said. Her tone was flawlessly neutral, and yet then again, not quite. "Your mother. They tend to be."

"I-I think she was. I hope so," Kirk choked out, realising that his vision was blurring. He blinked fiercely. "I- hey, sorry, I-"

"What are you apologising for?" The girl in black had finished applying the salve, her now-slick palm resting against his spine, directly behind his aching heart. "She was your _mother_. It's perfectly reasonable for you to feel upset, no matter what your relationship was. And it's fine to feel conflicted, too- as long as you don't do something completely destructive in an attempt to drown it out."

"What, like," Kirk laughed falsely, a single tear spilling over his lashes and dripping onto his bare arm, "going out drinking and needing a complete stranger drag me back home before I do something stupid?"

"Oh, no- by all means, drink yourself into oblivion if it will make you feel better," the girl said indifferently, sliding off the bed and walking around to face him. Her fingers found his chin, gently tilting his head to back meet her eyes- still so stark and arctic in colour, yet seeming to thaw slightly as he met her gaze, as though under the heat of the high summer sun. "But somehow, I don't think it will."

She swiped away his tears.

"Emotions aren't meant to be ignored, you know. Stop shutting them out, James, before they rot you from the inside."

He cracked a faint smile. "Jim."

"I'm sorry?"

"Jim. Most people call me Jim."

Her response, and her smile, were both unexpected and warm. "Oh. Is it alright if I choose not to count as 'most people'?"

This time, his laugh was genuine. "Well, I've known you for about half an hour, and I sure don't. Why not?"

"Excellent," she said, her smile becoming wry as she knelt in front him. "Now hold still- _James_. I need to fix your pretty face."

"Oh. You think I'm pretty?"

"I _know_ you are. Now _hold still_."

He obeyed with a grin, closing his eyes and sitting, motionless, as she set to work one more, her left hand held at the nape of his neck, short nails scraping against his skin, the other efficiently cleansing and daubing medical sealant onto the cuts on his cheek, his jaw, his lower lip, the bridge of his nose. Kirk relaxed slowly under her surprisingly capable hands, the tension in his shoulders unravelling, leaving him suddenly feeling less like he was going to collapse under the weight of his own thoughts, now that he had shared them. This young, incomprehensible mystery had witnessed his most vulnerable self, the secrets of his past unwrapped and examined, all the while knowing of his infamous reputation- and had allowed him to spill his heart out and then promptly close himself back up, stitching himself into his usual blasé confidence and flirtation, once he had shared what he needed.

Vaguely, Jim wondered whether he had just fallen a little bit in love, or whether that was just the whiskey talking.

When she was done- far too quickly, in his opinion- Jim opened her eyes and saw her smiling still.

"Finished. Come on, cowboy," she said, tugging off his boots and lining them up neatness beside his bed. "Jeans off, too. You need to sleep, before the hangover sets in."

"And if I'm not tired? I mean, I'm sure you could find a way to wear me out, and you are the one who suggested I take of my-"

"Hypospray."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me, Kirk."

"Ooh, _Kirk_? What happened to James? I _liked_ James."

"Bed. _Now_. Before I stick you."

Kirk chuckled, deeply amused for no tangible reason other than general intoxication, as she yanked the sheets out from underneath him in a single movement and tossed the covers back over his now almost-bare form, throwing his jeans over the back of a chair.

"I never asked your name," he slurred out, both exhausted and drunk, slumping back against his pillows.

She glanced at him secretively, straightening the bedspread and packing up her medical kit.

"No you didn't."

"Well?"

The girl in black zipped up her bag and knelt next to the bed, only inches away. She was close enough that he would barely have to lift his hand in order to tuck a loose lock of ebony hair behind her ear. "Well, what?"

Jim looked into her, entirely serious. "Come on. A name. Any name. I might forget your face in the morning, but I _never_ forget a name. Doesn't even have to be real."

The girl hesitated.

And then stabbed him in the neck.

"_Ouch_!"

She removed the needle of the chrome hypospray from his flesh, dropping it into a side-pocket in her bag and holding back laughter at his sore but increasingly drowsy look. She leaned forwards, icy eyes gleaming. "_Raven_," she breathed into his ear, even as the corners of Kirk's vision began to turn dark. "You can call me Raven."

"Raven…" He murmured, eyelids fluttering over oceanic-coloured irises. "Beautiful."

The girl in black smiled, and on pure impulse, leaned forwards to press her lips against his cheek.

When she rose to her feet, Jim Kirk was already dead to the world.

* * *

The next morning, when Kirk awoke with a pounding headache, an aversion to all forms of light and a mouth filled with the taste of stale alcohol and copper- mercifully, someone had left an unopened bottle of water on his bedside cabinet, and he kept painkillers in the drawer below for occasions such as these- he remembered nothing of the previous night, exactly as predicted.

Nothing, except a pair of breath-taking blue eyes, and a name.


	2. Chapter II: Reintroductions

_**A/N: **Changed this chapter yet again- I'm so picky. It's back to the original post, essentially- I wasn't happy with the last scene, so I'm going to put it in the next chapter instead. So, as ever, enjoy._

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Chapter II  
_Reintroductions_

_April 19, 2256 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

Three days after he had been told of his mother's death, Kirk had recovered somewhat. Fragments of the night he had received the news slowly returned to him: the feeling of despair and lack of control, the guilt over that fact that he was only finding out long after the funeral service, his impromptu escape from the academy grounds, the first few drinks- and then a meaningless haze leading him up to the girl with the glacial blue eyes. _Raven_, he repeated the name aloud, testing the hard harsh sound on his lips and in his throat when he was alone, annunciating carefully. That was the name she had given him- unusual, but pretty- and that he did remember at least, along with the fact that it had quite suited her; if his garbled recollections were correct, she had been dressed from head to heel in black, her hair the colour of midnight to match. But he recalled little else. Only her words of advice. Just as she- _Raven_- had suggested, Jim had let himself feel the grief, requesting two days of bereavement leave from all of his classes. His request was granted almost immediately with the promise that he could have more if he needed it.

He didn't. Forty-two hours and a stranger's advice were enough. Kirk moved on, never looking back- except to quietly wish his estranged mother a loving farewell.

"_Cadet Kirk_!"

The familiar, commanding male voice- one he had first heard through a veil of alcohol and blood in a dive bar in Iowa- stopped Jim in his tracks. He turned, looking over his shoulder to see his mentor- Captain Christopher Pike; dark hair, rugged features, his uniform pressed and immaculate- walking down the wide pentagonal hallway towards him purposefully.

Kirk pivoted on his heel to face him respectfully.

"Sir."

Pike inclined his head slightly. "A word, if you can spare the time."

Kirk knew better than to say no, even if he honestly couldn't, and gave his reply without checking the PADD in his grip. "Of course, sir."

He followed placidly as his superior immediately began walking in the opposite direction, parallel to the impressive panoramic window spanning the length of the corridor. Kirk could tell, solely by the fact that Pike's pace was matched to his and he was therefore allowing his protégé to walk level to him, that he was not about to be reprimanded for something. Otherwise, he would be trailing a stride behind, trying to look as apologetic as possible and come up with a decent justification for his most recent indiscretion.

"So I hear that you met my niece a few nights ago."

Kirk almost missed a step in shock.

His first thought was about how he hadn't known that Pike even had a niece, or even sibling capable of making that familial link.

The second was that, if he had met her, he hoped he hadn't forgotten her, because that seemed just plain discourteous.

The third and by far most panicked was the one that hoped like hell that he _hadn't_ met her, because in that case, it was probable that he had also hit on her.

"Uh." He replied unintelligently.

Pike looked deeply amused, much to Jim's relief. "You don't remember?" He sighed. "Well, damn, Kirk. I assumed that you would be drunk by the time that she found you, but not _that_ drunk. Raven tends to be pretty memorable, as people go. She tends to have that effect."

Kirk opened his mouth to make a hasty excuse, when the words suddenly hit with their full force. _Wait a second- Raven? But he can't mean-_ A memory snapped forth, startlingly clear. Moonlight, a sky full of stars, a dark alleyway; pale skin, long black silken hair in a braid, angular features, almond-shaped blue eyes. _"Call me the friend of a friend of yours. I was sent to do damage limitation on their behalf."_

"Oh- wait, so Raven is your-" Kirk stumbled out, finally making the connection in his brain. "It was you. You were the 'friend' who sent her."

"Ah, so you do remember," Pike said. He drew to a halt at a vacant study room- a recording booth for the use of languages and linguistics students, by the looks of it, soundproofed and unlikely to be in use, with the keystone lecture that was being conducted in the assembly hall on the translation of certain dialects of Trill. Still, Pike checked the digital registry briefly before unlocking it with his high-clearance pass, and gesturing for Kirk to enter in front of him. "But I take it you didn't realise she was related to me. Not surprising."

Kirk stepped inside, the door sliding shut and automatically locking behind them.

"To be honest, sir, I didn't even know you had a niece."

"Most people don't. They don't tend to make the connection, since she isn't actually a Pike, per se." the captain told him casually. He acknowledged Kirk's curious glance with a smile, and continued on amiably, seeing no harm in telling him the full truth. His protégé was a troublemaker, but trustworthy, and unlikely to ever share what he was told in confidence. "She's a cadet here: Valravn S. Winter, otherwise known as Raven. I suppose you of all people can understand, especially consider her choice in career, why she doesn't tend to advertise the fact that we're family." Kirk nodded grimly under Pike's knowing stare. Expectations- or rather, _assumptions_. Everyone seemed to presuppose that simply because you came from the same gene pool as someone who had accomplished so much, you had to be a carbon copy of them, both in terms of personality and achievements. Every time Kirk heard father's name or image used, as it was almost without fail, in one of the countless recruitment advertisements for Starfleet, he felt a mix of deep pride and increasing frustration. It didn't help that Jim bore a striking resemblance to his father, and that recognition was easy for a stranger, even without knowledge of his surname. "Raven lived in England until she was twelve. Her mother- my sister in law, Karin- was a highly skilled psychologist based in London, so I only saw her during her summers when she came to San Francisco, or when I could find spare time to visit. But then Karin died, and my brother had already passed when Raven was very young, so I took custody. She came here to live with me, and eventually joined Starfleet."

"Oh." Kirk realised that most of his immediate questions had been answered by that concise, almost alarmingly normal explanation- except one. "Um, sir- exactly how much did she tell you, about-?"

"Practically nothing," Pike replied neutrally. "She was quite firm on the matter. She told me that you had made it back to your room in once piece, and that was all."

Jim felt a flutter of gratitude towards Raven- _Valravn_, he corrected internally, an even rarer name than her apparent moniker, and fluid in a way that was difficult to pronounce in Standard Federation English. It might even be, perhaps, even non-Terran in origin; Raven might be the Anglicised version, taken from the last two syllables. Kirk continued on his train of thought idly, racking his mind for previous language classes and searching for a match.

"So what exactly _did_ happen?" Pike interrupted his musings.

Kirk jumped slightly. "Oh. As you'd imagine, I guess. She found me, got me out of trouble, forced me to see straight, got me back to my dorm room." He paused, wondering how to express just how close he had come a total self-destruct. "I- she was nice, actually. No-nonsense, but really nice, and she didn't have to be. She… talked a lot of sense."

"Hm. That sounds exactly like Raven," Pike said, his mouth twitching, the pride he had in his niece glimmering through the professional mask. "She's- a very serious young lady. That's why I sent her. When I heard the news about your mother, I meant to tell you myself, in person- but then," he sighed, exasperated by the memory, "some idiot in admin had to go and run their mouth before I got the chance. I'm sorry you had to find out that way, son."

Kirk smiled dryly. "It was a bit of an emotional sucker-punch, sir. But, thanks for trying to reach me. And- thank you for sending her. Raven."

Pike allowed himself to smile knowingly. "Well. That girl's always had a knack for reading people. I thought she might be able to help you." His gaze deepened. "Did she?"

Kirk's expression softened. "Yeah. A lot."

"Mission accomplished, then. That's good to hear." Pike stepped forwards and clamped his hand down on Kirk's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring, like an anchor. "Listen. Jim. You need anything, you come to me. Alright?"

Jim nodded mutely, feeling his throat close up slightly with emotion. Ever efficient and never one to linger once his intended task was completed, Pike unlocked the door and left without further comment- to Kirk's relief. Leaning back against a nearby desk, Kirk rubbed his forehead, sighing.

Then the realisation crept in, and he suddenly found himself smiling.

He had a name: both first and last. He now knew that she was a cadet at Starfleet. And better still- Kirk had an extensive network on the academy campus.

"Valravn, huh…?"

* * *

_April 22, 2256 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

It was barely past the break of dawn, the Earth's sun blooming bright and cold over the horizon, light exploding from the broth of the sea and city. She was in the almost completely deserted mess hall- sat alone, as usual, after her usual absurdly early morning run, at one of the small circular glass and chrome tables arranged on the perimeter; her attention was carefully divided between the digital notes displayed on the screen of her PADD and a cup brimming with her first daily hit of caffeine- when he found her.

"Valravn Scarlett Winter."

She was taking a mouthful of scalding chocolate-sweetened coffee when she heard his voice, and had to force herself not to choke in surprise. Sharp blue eyes flicked up over the rim of her cup, and found themselves met with a familiar face: blonde, bold, golden as the sun, with a disarmingly charming boyish smile and eyes the exact clarity and colour of sea-glass, sparkling with humour in the pale sunlight. He was certainly far more handsome without the cuts and bruises marring his face, she internally noted, idly wondering how he had found her.

"Good pronunciation," Valravn complimented, slightly amused, lowering her cup and placing it aside. "Most people butcher it. It's why almost everyone calls me Raven."

Jim Kirk grinned, languorous, one hand plunged into the pocket of his deep crimson cadet uniform, the other gripping his own steaming cup. "Well- do you mind if I don't feel like being counted along with 'almost everyone'? I mean, Raven is pretty, but _Valravn_ is kind of sexy."

Valravn hitched a brow. "Oh, so that cloying overconfidence of yours wasn't just because you were drunk. Interesting. And since you can pronounce it properly, I don't see why not." She paused pointedly, remaining cool and impassive under Kirk's penetrating stare, and after a moment, placed the sole of her boot against the chair in front of her, nudging it out from where it was tucked into the table. "Go on. Take a seat. I know you're going to, whether I give you permission or not."

His oceanic eyes shimmered with silent laughter, and Kirk placed his cup down on the table, watching Valravn cross one leg over the other neatly as he took the seat opposite her. Their movements were leisurely, the two cadets observing each other closely, examining the differences now that they were both out of civilian wear and poured into the standard-issue mould of Starfleet cadet uniform. If Valravn had been given the freedom of choice, she would have chosen the ink-black of the senior officers and instructors' uniform over her own in a nanosecond- after all, she rarely wore anything but pure black by choice- but internally, her aesthetic sense admitted that the deep blood-red of her skirt, long-sleeved high-necked sweater and jacket had its appeal. The colour was even more appealing on Kirk, she noticed, just as much as the leather jacket and well-worn jeans she had seen him in last- though a blend of charcoal and gold might suit him better, she added wryly, imagining him in the colours of command. At that exact moment, said cadet was admiring both the toned shape of her legs and her custom calf-length boots- simple enough to pass the standard, but with a thick three-inch heel rather than the usual flat sole.

Kirk examined her for a moment longer before commenting, "Okay, so you have my measure- or at least, you think you do." Valravn took a sip of coffee delicately, refraining from pointing out that she had seen more of him that most who had met him, and she had only known him for a collective hour and a half. Jim seemed to have said this deliberately, however, as the next thing out of his mouth was, with a smirk, "So what am I thinking right now?"

Valravn hid a smile. "Questions. I assume that you have a few," she said immediately, deciding that she was going to thoroughly enjoy revealing just how dangerous of an intellectual opponent she could be.

"Well, your uncle already answered most of them," Kirk informed her nonchalantly, taking a swallow of whatever was in his cup- black coffee, Valravn ventured, judging by the intoxicatingly bitter smell of it. She was unsurprised that her uncle had spoken with him. Out of respect for what Jim had shared with her that night, and wanting to shield her own mortification at how easily she had been enthralled by Kirk's infamous charisma- despite the fact that he had been extremely drunk- Valravn had opted for almost complete silence, which must have worried the captain, she realised. The ensuing conversation must have been how Kirk had found her. "But yeah, I do have a few. First- _Valravn._ I'm curious- where does that name come from?"

"And why should I answer you?" Valravn asked smoothly, circling the rim of her cup with her fingertip.

Jim grinned, charmingly. "Because you're enjoying this."

She couldn't help it. The smile that curled at her mouth was entirely unconscious. "Danish folklore. A _valravn_ was said to be a supernatural raven that had gained human intelligence by consuming the flesh of a chieftain slain and left unburied on the battlefield. If they were to drink the blood from the heart of a child, they could take the form of a human- specifically, a knight. That myth is where my name comes from."

Kirk's eyes were alight with interest. "I like it. It's very dramatic- in a dark, savagely beautiful way."

"My parents seemed to think so," she replied lightly, attempting to hide the unfamiliar flutter that she felt upon hearing the sincerity in his comment by turning her attention back to her PADD, her coffee cup held aloft as she skimmed through her messages and schedule for the day. There was a new confidential message from Starfleet Headquarters that she would have to check as soon as she had a moment alone. "Next question."

"Okay. I noticed you look younger than me. And I know that some cadets get fast-tracked according to skill, and going by what I saw the other night, you are… so how old are you, exactly?"

Valravn's eyes never wavered from her PADD, though her smile grew. "You do not want to hear the answer to that."

"Oh, now I _definitely_ do."

"Sixteen," she answered flatly.

"See, that wasn't so- wait, _what_?!"

Valravn crushed down a laugh threatening to bubble up inside her. Kirk was right; she _was_ enjoying this, though she couldn't fathom _why_. Perhaps it was simply because Jim wasn't simply the usual faceless cadet trying to get laid. He was an audacious flirt, certainly, but he seemed willing to engage her on an intellectual level, and had the rapier wit to spar with her verbally. "_Sixteen_. As of last December. Now, is that all? Or do you have more questions?"

Kirk quickly recovered from the shock, muttering something under his breath that sounded oddly like _incredible_, and Valravn bit into the soft flesh of the inside of her cheek as a distraction. People had said that word before concerning her, in many other languages and in greater levels of praise besides, but coming from someone so wrapped up in his own ego- it was more than a little flattering.

It didn't hurt that he was exceptionally attractive, either.

Finally, Kirk spoke. "No, uh- no more questions. But that's not why I'm here." His eyes met hers with a sudden seriousness, the shadow of a smile camouflaging it. "I realised that I never thanked you."

Valravn's chest tightened. She set down her cup with a gentle clink. "Oh. That. Don't mention it," she said quietly. "And, I mean that literally, as well as figuratively speaking. I wiped the records of us leaving and entering the grounds from the academy security database, so I'd prefer it if you didn't say anything. I would rather avoid the awkward questions."

"Sure," Kirk shrugged. "Oh- so that's what you meant by _cleaning_."

"Mm-hm."

Silence fell between them, and Valravn could sense that Kirk was searching for a reason to stay, yet was preparing to leave nonetheless.

Impulsively, before he could move to rise from his chair, she made a decision.

"I think my coffee went cold," she said conversationally, picking up her cup and tapping at the screen of her PADD, wiping its display of her emails and instead bringing up the list of complicated equations she had been idly working her way through when Kirk had approached. "Do you think you could watch my PADD for me while I go get it reheated?"

Jim's resulting smile was sweeter than honey, and utterly beatific. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

A strange warmth blossomed in Valravn's heart, trickling through her veins. "Thank you. I'll be right back. And in the meantime- these equations on my PADD. I hear you're smart." Her eyebrows lifted in challenge, and she slid the device towards him. "Prove it."

Of course, after a declaration like that, it was almost inevitable that they would end up having breakfast together.


	3. Chapter III: Slow Burn

**_A/N: _**_So, I'll admit, this chapter is mostly filler- but I felt like I needed to take a bit of time to establish the Starfleet Academy background in the two years before I move into the story proper. At about Chapter V, we'll be delving into canon events. I hope nobody minds the fluff until then._

_Oh, and while I remember: a quick note on the timeline in relation to academy studies. I figure the education system on Earth would be heavily modelled after the way it is now, and that most cadets at Starfleet Academy study for four years, normally, after a university degree- __so they would be about twenty two when they join up, and twenty six when they graduate. Since the incident with the_ Narada_ and the _U.S.S. Kelvin_ happened in 2233 on the same day of Kirk's birth, that would make him twenty-five at the time of the distress call from Vulcan- I think I already mentioned that Jim skipped a year and therefore would be in the graduating class, so, yeah._

_In that case, the first arc of this story (the plot of the first film) takes place in late spring of 2258, so therefore for the bulk of the story, Jim will be twenty-five, and Valravn will be eighteen._

* * *

Chapter III  
_Slow Burn_

_July 31, 2256 – Selardi Earth Security Station, Luna (Earth's Moon)_

"Cadet Winter, you have a personal transmission on standby in your quarters."

Valravn glanced up from the touch-sensitive screen of her console. The holographic data packets she had been coordinating- each individual window displaying the immediate status of one of Planet Earth's many security satellites and monitoring probes- drew to a smooth halt, ceasing their rapid orbiting of her workstation as her fingers left the screen. Valravn threw a questioning look in her supervisor's direction, and Sol paused long enough in her rapid typing of her regular quarter-daily report to nod her approval.

"Go ahead and take it; you're relieved of your duties for tonight. Good work, as usual. Keval- take over from Raven. There shouldn't be much left to do."

The latter part was aimed at the handsome Andorian cadet on the other side of the room. He was the only other intern working at the station that summer: five years Valravn's senior and at least a head taller, with an easy smile, skin the colour of Earth's skies on a clear day and platinum blonde hair that curled down to his collar. Valravn deliberately ignored his stare as she rose from her seat, transferring the data to Keval's terminal and swiftly exiting, heading down the narrow, sterilised ivory corridors towards the Mahina Wing of the lunar station. The Selardi base was a respectable location for a placement- not exactly exotic for a student of the academy, but nonetheless at the heart of planetary security for Earth and Starfleet Headquarters- and Valravn had quickly proven her worth, picking up the countless web of measures and procedures ensuring the planet's defence with efficiency and ease, closing up a handful of overlooked holes in the system. The work was mundane, and the experience relatively useless, but it looked good on her record- and the view of her home planet from space was beautiful. Valravn had to slow her steps as she walked past one of the windows lining the outer walls of the complex of corridors; beyond the barren white curvature of the moon, empty space lay thick and impenetrable, glittering with a scattering of stars. Planet Earth was half-lit by its sun, a perfect marble of turquoise blue, swirled with the white condensation and smudges of russet, luminous, carved out against the darkness.

Valravn drank in the view for a moment, alone in the silence, before forcing herself to remember the call waiting.

Her cabin was small, but no more so than her single dormitory room at the academy. Valravn locked the door behind her and leaned over to the control panel to check the origin coordinates of the transmission, tugging off her boots as a string of numbers materialised onscreen. Rapidly calculating the location indicated by the call origin identification code, it was not, as she expected, from that of her uncle's starship- but rather, from the Planet Vulcan.

Realising who the call was from, Valravn took a seat on the edge of her bed and hastily accepted the transmission, anticipation bubbling up in a warm wave.

The screen fizzled, and cleared, revealing a familiar face set before a backdrop of clay-red walls: rich dark skin, proud feminine features, long black hair pulled back in in a high, sleek ponytail. "Nyota," Valravn said, her demeanour brightening subtly, "finally. I suppose you really have been busy researching those archives. How is Vulcan? I hear the architecture is beautiful, and the climate there is a little like-" Suddenly, Valravn stopped, noticing the hard expression Uhura was wearing. It was the exact same look that she adopted when she was debating a controversial issue with a close-minded opponent- and although Valravn hid it well, the fact that the same supremely disapproving glare was being directed at _her_, of all people, was deeply disturbing. "Wait. What?"

"I _know_, Raven."

Valravn raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you could be a little less cryptic? It's been a long day."

"Gaila let it slip."

_Traitor,_ was Valravn's immediate thought. "Again, Nyota," she said, feigning innocence and boredom in the same breath. "Feel free to be specific."

"_Jim Kirk_," Nyota intoned his name darkly. Valravn rolled her eyes emphatically, slouching and wondering if this was how it felt to be told off by a protective older sister. Uhura was practically that, after all, having slipped into the role almost from the day they had met, during orientation day nearly two years ago. "I guess my first question is what in the name of the galaxy are you _doing_ messing around with _him_ of all people. I couldn't believe it when Gaila told me- I mean, I'd heard the rumours that you knew each other, but I never actually thought that they might be _true_. I mean, you're smarter than this. A _lot_ smarter." Uhura shook her head, rubbing over her left eyebrow. "Please tell me that you're not sleeping with him."

Valravn shot her a withering glance that she knew would be felt even through the digital connection.

"Do you really think so little of me, Nyota?"

Uhura relaxed slightly, looking relieved and slightly apologetic. "No- no, of course not- look, I'm sorry, Raven, I am. It's just that when I heard that you had willingly endured Kirk's presence on more than one occasion, I got a little- _worried._ You should probably remind him that you're still underage, you know. That will get rid of him in a nanosecond."

Valravn couldn't help herself. She gave Nyota the purest, most incorruptible of looks. "I'm legal in England."

She could just tell that Uhura was resisting the urge to plunge her face into her hands in renewed despair. Valravn bit her lip, smothering a laugh.

"For the sake of your virginity, Raven- do _not_ say that in front of Kirk."

"Oh, come on. It was just a joke, Nyota. No one will be taking anybody's virginity, I promise." Valravn loosed a devious smile nonetheless as she imagined Kirk's reaction to her comment: he would throw his head back with laughter, eyes sparkling like the sea, clutching the nearest wall or piece of furniture for support, utterly and unapologetically delighted. The thought sent a ghost of rippling warmth through her, one that she associated with a voice like molten sunshine, unbending loyalty and a magnetic yet wholly sincere smile. Valravn mentally shelved the thought, the surface of her skin heating treacherously.

It was quite possible she was just as much of an idiot as Uhura though she was.

"Why do you dislike him so much?" She found herself asking nonchalantly.

"Why do _you_ like him so much?" Uhura challenged. "He's a narcissistic, impulsive, reckless, arrogant son of a bitch who will sleep with anything that breathes."

Valravn shrugged elegantly, denying none of her friend's assertions. "Yes. But he makes me smile."

Uhura observed the younger girl shrewdly, the faintest hint of doubt creeping into her eyes. A smile from Valravn Winter was a rare commodity, and according to the information she had eventually extracted from Gaila, Kirk regularly teased and charmed his way to eliciting them from her. And in the past few months, it was true that Valravn had seemed a little more open, less introverted, more confident- Uhura would be lying if she said that she hadn't noticed and approved of the subtle shift.

But still. She wouldn't trust Kirk with Valravn any further than she could throw him.

The younger girl sighed, sensing that her friend needed further convincing. "Alright, Ny- put your personal feelings aside for a second and try to think about this logically. For a friendship to work- or, any relationship, really- it has to be mutually beneficial. I've just told you that it is, and you yourself said that I'm smart. So, surely, if you thought that I am intelligent enough not to fall for any of James' tricks, then it follows that I should be intelligent enough to handle interaction of any description with him- including a friendship. So, what are you objecting to, really?"

Uhura battled with herself, emotion and reason clashing. Trust Valravn to drive her into a corner with logic; she would have to consult with Spock later as to the validity of her argument, just in case, but there seemed to be very few holes in her reasoning. But then, Uhura couldn't say what she was really thinking: that she was not worried because she thought Valravn was not intelligent enough to see through Kirk, but rather because Valravn was so very- _pure_. It seemed an odd thing to think, but Uhura had seen for herself that Valravn was not just "Miss Ice Princess, 'I can kick your butt all the way to Qo'noS and look damn good doing it'", as Gaila had put it earlier; she was both sugar and ice, and quite innocent when it came down to it. Intelligence could only compensate so much for the experience of age.

Uhura slumped back helplessly, knowing that saying such a thing would only cause Valravn to freeze over like the Alps. There was clearly no way out of this now. Resolved to keep a close eye on the situation, but refrain from interfering- for now- she concluded with a weary, "Just- be careful, Raven. You know what I mean."

"Sure," Valravn replied, all the while internally wondering whether she could live up to that promise, or whether it might already be too late. "Now- shall we begin? Do you want to start by telling me about your latest escapades with _Commander_ Spock-" Uhura blushed darkly, embarrassed and delighted by the concept of gossiping about her secret, budding relationship with a friend, "or should I tell you about my date tonight with Keval?"

* * *

_November 23, 2256 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

For the sixty-seventh time that week, Kirk found himself thrown to the mat of the sparring room, groaning.

"Get up, Kirk," Valravn said pitilessly, her breathing barely laboured, nudging him in the ribs with the toe of her boot. Jim, lying prone on his stomach, groaned louder in protest. He heard Valravn sigh irritably, and beyond the large viewing panel a few muffled snickers sounded as their impromptu audience dispersed, curiosity sated. Valravn watched them leave, her gaze as sharp as that of the bird that lent its name to her, before turning back to Kirk, her voice softer.

"Seriously, James, are you alright?"

"Yeah- yeah, fine," he said, struggling to sit up, every muscle aching, "or- you know, no less fine than usual. Besides- pain is perception, right?"

Asking Valravn to practice with him in close combat had been a double-edged blade, as Kirk had known it would be from the moment he considered the idea at the start of the academic year. On the one hand, she was unrivalled for the position at top of her class- ruthless, naturally talented, the best Human fighter that Starfleet Academy had seen in a long time, and easily the preferred option in terms of asking for advice on improving his technique without having to swallow much pride. And, sure enough, Jim's test results in Physical Combat had been exponentially improving in the weeks since they begun. On the other hand, the training sessions had been hard on Kirk- when they had started last month, he specifically asked Valravn to pull no punches, and as a result found himself floored in about two-point-one seconds the first time they faced off- but they were harder still when people took notice that said sessions were happening. Both had reputations to uphold, after all; Jim Kirk was too arrogant to ask for advice, and Valravn Winter was too cold to offer it, at least to someone like him. And so, to the outside they made it look like just another power-play: Jim wanted the fun of flirting with someone untouchable, and Valravn wanted the opportunity to take him down a few notches.

Alone, the façade fell away. "Pain is pain," Valravn said firmly, heading over to the medical cabinet built into the wall, full of emergency medical gear. Plucking a familiar silver implement from the top rack, she returned to his side and knelt next to him. "And a good natural evolutionary indicator for damage. I think I might have gone a little too far with that last combination strike, so just hold still."

Kirk gave a secret smile as she switched on the medical scanner with a soft whirr, tilting his chin up with the tips of her fingers delicately- as gentle as in checking his injuries as she was brutal in making them. "I'm getting flashbacks."

His heart skipped when Valravn's eyes, previously cool and focused, lit with a spark of recognition. "Never a good sign," she said lightly. Kirk chuckled.

Eventually, satisfied, Valravn replaced the small instrument and snapped the medical cabinet shut. "You're fine, but- we should probably call it a day, anyway."

"You sure, V? I'm good to go again, if you want," Kirk said immediately, standing up and brushing himself off, supressing the sting of fire that jolted through his drained body.

"I know you are. But I have a class at ten-fifteen, and I have a few things to get done before then."

Kirk exhaled, stepping over to the control panel on the wall and entering in their time of departure into the digital register. Their sparring sessions had taken a considerable bite out of Valravn's already limited free time- something that Kirk would be loath to cause, usually. But he also knew that, for Valravn, practicing the complex moves she knew off by heart, analysing his every move and snapping forwards to counter it perfectly, fluid and flawless, had a way of releasing excess tension. It was, Kirk supposed, the one place where she had control, and he was in the business of finding excuses to make her feel a little lighter. He took pride in the fact that he was one of the few things in the galaxy that could make her smile- right alongside rainfall (he knew it reminded her of England, and her mother) and the cold air at dawn (with the fog pouring in off the coast, shrouding the city in a veil of white vapour that would be burned away in the high sun, he had to admit it was beautiful, as though the entire planet was frozen in time).

As he was locking up the room, Valravn returned to his side, having retrieved two bottles of water from a dispenser, both slick with condensation. She tossed one to him they began walking, shoulder to shoulder, down the mostly empty corridor.

"So- how's your Andorian boy?" Jim asked after unscrewing the cap and taking his first swig, keeping his voice level. To say that he was happy about Valravn's summer acquisition of a boyfriend would have been a downright lie. His complaints had gotten to the point where McCoy had outright asked him if he was jealous, which Kirk had vehemently denied- but been forced to admit, in lieu, that he felt at least somewhat possessive over Valravn.

Valravn cut her eyes at him in a manner that informed him it was categorically none of his business. "Keval is fine," she said shortly. "Change the subject."

Jim smirked at her bluntness. "Okay, fine. Isn't your birthday coming up soon?"

Valravn stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Where did you get that idea?"

"Well, I know it's in December."

"And who told you that?" She asked coolly.

"You did," Jim replied, triumphant in the certainty in the source of this snippet on information, flipping his bottle up into the air and catching it as it fell effortlessly. "When we met- the second time, that is. You told me that you had turned sixteen last December. So when is it?"

Valravn set her mouth, her eyes turning as cold and flat as the Pacific.

"I'm not telling you."

"What?" Kirk stared at her with a wide-eyed, disbelievingly hurt expression, with all the beguiling guilt-triggering emotion of a kicked puppy. "Oh, come on, V, why not?"

"Because if I tell you, you'll get me a gift," she said curtly, "and I don't celebrate my birthday, so it would be a spectacular waste of money."

"And _why_ don't you celebrate your birthday?" Kirk probed further, feeling rather like he was poking at a steel bear trap: at any moment, the jagged teeth could snap shut on his flesh, but blind curiosity meant that he simply _had_ to uncover what was underneath. "You're not categorically against them- I know because you sent me a gift during the summer for mine- thank you, by the way- even though you were on Luna at the time. So what gives?"

"_Nothing_."

She was looking increasingly uncomfortable at his persistent interrogation. Kirk was suddenly beyond curiosity, and edging into the tentative territory of concern. He stopped decisively, gently catching Valravn's arm to tug her to a standstill beside him. Her eyes remained frosty, but Jim could discern the subtlest trace of an unknown emotion raging underneath- visible only because he had caught her off-guard.

"_Valravn_," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Tell me."

He watched her closely, her body half turned away from him, hands seizing up into fists, nails cutting into her palms in mauve crescents, almost drawing blood.

"If I don't tell you the date, you can't forget it."

Kirk froze. Realisation crashed over him like a waterfall.

Before he could even begin to think of how to reply, Valravn's communicator lit up with a message alert. Automatically, or perhaps just grateful for the opportune distraction, she unhooked the device from her belt and flipped it open. Her expression remained cold and brittle, brimming with professionalism, and instantly Kirk knew what it was about: rumour had it that the reason for Valravn's frequent unexplained absences from classes and the campus was because her talent was already being exploited by Starfleet Headquarters, and that she was often called away for unofficial participation on covert operations and projects. Jim could easily believe that there was at least a shred of truth in the theory; having personally seen Valravn receive a message or email and abruptly announce that she would be unavailable at a given date and time, sometimes even for an entire day, he had long since accepted it as a probable truth.

"Short notice," Valravn said, staring at the screen. "It's important. I have to go."

"Sure." Kirk's tone attempted at levity, before he remembered something important. "Oh- wait, V! Didn't you say that you had to hand a data chip in to Professor th'Zarath today?"

She was already halfway down the hallway by the time his words reached her. She stopped in her tracks abruptly.

"_Dammit_."

"Hey, don't worry," he interrupted swiftly. Valravn's shoulders were tight with panic, and Jim was eager to smooth out the tension from her. "Just give it to me, I'll take it for you." Kirk sighed as she gave him a doubtful glance, grinning in exasperation. "V, relax- I have Stellar Navigation this morning. I'll get it to her before ten, I promise."

Valravn wavered, caught temporarily between her pride in her own self-reliance, and practicality.

"I- only if you're-"

"I'm sure, give it here," Kirk said with a grin as she extracted the small silver chip from her pocket. Their fingers brushed as she returned and handed it over, and he maintained contact a little longer than was really necessary. "Go. It's okay."

Valravn looked away sharply, her high cheekbones filling with a tint of colour, and Kirk realised just how intensely he had been gazing at her. He ducked his head, embarrassed, heat uncoiling in the pit of his stomach.

"Thanks, James. I owe you one," she said softly. She pivoted on her heel and disappeared behind the corner, the pattern of her hurried footsteps fading rapidly.

In the subsequent silence, Jim closed his eyes, ignoring the ghost of her fingertips lingering on his.

* * *

_December 10, 2256 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Jim Kirk was full of them, after all. And yet it did.

Perhaps it was because he had grown to know her so well.

Valravn stumbled through the door to her quarters, aching with exhaustion, her mind ceaselessly churning with excess information. Her head hurt. She was craving sugar. She wanted to sleep until the apocalypse and beyond. It was her birthday today- it was past midnight, so it was technically the next day, and _by the stars _she had been awake for too long- and no one knew or would remember. She felt like death. Still, she somehow forced herself to drop her PADD in its correct place, to undress and place her clothes in the laundry basket in the corner, to brush her hair and teeth and clamber into her sleepwear, driven more by stubbornness than anything else. Valravn Winter did not show weakness, and everyone knew it.

It was only when she was about to crawl into bed and sleep like the dead that she noticed it: two boxes, resting on her bedside cabinet.

Valravn collapsed on her bed, staring in confusion at the odd manifestation. One of the boxes was small and compact, black leather wrapped with thick crimson ribbon; the other was larger, wide and long and an inch or so deep, plain white cardboard, atop which was a folded slip of paper. She shook her head and lethargically reached over, unfolding the note.

_Gotcha._

_Open these, then hurry  
up and go to sleep. I'll see  
you tomorrow._

_With love,  
James_

Through her crushing fatigue, Valravn's heart fluttered, and she laughed softly.

Ridiculously, she allowed herself to absorb the last three words for several moments longer (_With love, James_- she was reading too much into it, and Valravn knew it, but she was too happy to care) before quietly slipping into her top drawer for safekeeping, and opening her gifts. In the first white box was a thick slab of her favourite hazelnut and chocolate torte, ordered straight from a restaurant that Valravn had only ever once mentioned to Jim, with a silver fork set beside it- practically an order to eat as soon as possible. The other box, however, contained something far more permanent: a beautiful hair cuff, wrought from jet-black metal shot with threads of piercing blue- hanging from which, on a fine chain, was a little obsidian charm carved in the shape of a raven, suspended by its tail, delicate wings fanned and outstretched. Valravn slipped the loop of black elastic from her hair and clipped the cuff onto the end of her braid, watching it tighten automatically to hold it in place.

She shook her head, playing with the gleaming charm absently. How had he done it?

Oh well. She didn't care, she decided. Curling up against her headrest in her pyjamas, she sank her fork into the chocolate torte- essentially her birthday cake, she realised- and took a bite. _Love you, James,_ her mind breathed vaguely.

The thought melted into ether as quickly as it had formed, and remained forgotten in the morning.

* * *

_December 17, 2256 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?!"

Her grip had been almost bruising as she dragged him away to a discreet corner of the quads, behind one of the buildings and the shadow of the bare brittle branches of a sycamore, but Jim was grateful for it- he knew that she would find out, and that she would be furious when she did, and that she hadn't confronted him in public was a small mercy.

"I know you're angry-" He began as calmly as he could.

"You have _no idea_ what I'm feeling right now," Valravn cut him off caustically. "James- you _beat my ex-boyfriend to a bloody pulp_, you _owned up_ to it like it was nothing, and you got yourself a _demerit_ and put on probation for a _fortnight_. Again, what the _hell _ were you-!"

"_He deserved it_!" Kirk exploded, his anger suddenly flaring up afresh and spilling over. "The bastard cheats on you, and when you find out about it and rightfully dump his ass, he _lies_ about it, talks crap about you to anyone who will listen and- and-" Jim inhaled sharply, trying to cool his temper, without success. "V- sweetheart- I'm not an idiot. I know that you could have taken care of it yourself, probably better than I did. But you shouldn't _have_ to. Not with the pressure you're already under. Just thinking about your schedule drives me crazy- you're taking about ten different courses, you're constantly called away by Starfleet HQ for whatever it is they have you doing- _don't _deny it, I know you can't tell me what it is because it's classified, but don't lie to me, we both know that I know- and then you get an internship when you should be relaxing over the summer, and I know you helped Uhura on her research for her thesis on xenosexuality, and then there was those practice session with me and- you just _deserve_ for someone to stand up for you once in a while, even if you are one of the most amazingly independent people I have ever met. So- yeah, I beat the crap out of him and I don't regret it. But if you want to slap me or punch me something, go ahead, I probably deserve it for going behind your back. All I ask is that you try to avoid my nose and teeth, if possible."

Breathless from churning out his speech at a furious pace, Kirk closed his eyes, squared his shoulders and braced for the inevitable blow.

He waited.

And waited.

Jim hesitantly opened his eyes. Valravn stood motionless in front of him, her arms wrapped around herself protectively, looking anywhere but at him.

It took him a moment to realise that her eyes were shining with a thick gleam of tears.

"No one's ever done anything like that for me before."

Kirk's shoulders dropped, softening instantly. No one would have ever believed that Valravn Winter could look or sound so vulnerable- and, if he wasn't very much mistaken, _guilty_. "Valravn-"

"Why the _hell_ did you do it, James? You were lucky to only lose a merit."

"Worth it," he said resolutely, smiling grimly at the memory of how satisfying it had felt, ploughing his fist into her former boyfriend's face. Andorian nasal cartilage was surprisingly brittle. "_Totally_ worth it."

Valravn simply stared at him for a moment. She suddenly swivelled away, blinking furiously, as though she was only just realising that she was crying- however, the motion only succeeded in sending the tears sliding down her face, catching on her lashes, sparkling brightly under the winter sun like chips of ice. Jim almost instinctively reached out and yanked her towards him, enveloping her in a firm embrace, hiding her tears from anyone who might pass by.

"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled into his chest, tears soaking into his jacket. Her fingers brushed over the smooth lines of the seams, pressing down, transferring the pressure to the flesh underneath. Kirk's heart stuttered. "For- _everything_. You. Thank you for being you- a complete and utter _idiot_, James Kirk."

It was at those words that Kirk could almost feel his heart slipping away, aware that it probably no longer belonged to him anymore- but he also found that honestly didn't care. The implication of the short revelation made him feel as though the long-since fused fault of the tectonic plates California rested on were suddenly shifting, cracking underneath his feet.

"By the way- _sweetheart_? You're such a Mid-Westerner."

Jim smirked, the earth suddenly stabilising.

"And you're so English. Locking up all your emotions like they don't exist. Such a Brit."

"Says the overemotional Yankee."

"_Hey!_ Shut up."

"_You_ shut up."

"_You._"

"You're such a child!"

"You started it!"


	4. Chapter IV: Steady, As She Goes

_**A/N: **So, after some edits and the addition of a scene on the end, this officially my longest chapter yet, and also the one with the most filler. But I'm having a lot of fun with Jim and Valravn's connection, and I felt like while I had shown their emotional closeness, I needed to show a little development on the sexual attraction side (I mean, it_ is_ Kirk)._

_I may or may not be planning a little smut at a later date, which means the rating would go up, but that depends on the demand for it. I definitely plan on hinting at it, but- feedback, anyone? Just to give me an idea of your opinions._

_Also: this is the last filler chapter. The next chapter we will begin broaching the edge of canon events- and then we will be diving into events from the film. A solid sequence of events should (note:_ should_ means _might not_) make it easier to begin powering forwards and back on schedule. So, without further ado: enjoy._

* * *

Chapter IV  
_Steady, As She Goes_

_December 31, 2257 – California, Earth_

Kirk loved sunset almost as much as he loved the dawn. The vast endless sky was a faultless shade of blue, the clear frozen colour reminding him of a certain seventeen- no, _eighteen_, as of three weeks ago- year-old's eyes. The few clouds that marred the flawless void burned with light, luminous, threads of pale gold and white as fine as spider silk, deepening in the west and blazing with retina-searing orange. The world was beautiful, the city of San Francisco set aflame and dazzling, the air bracingly cold; it was the cusp of the New Year, according to Earth's solar calendar and Western tradition, and to Kirk that meant one thing. Mentally mapping a route through the streets that had somehow become familiar, he flipped open his communicator and punched in a single number into his speed dial, plunging his free hand into the pocket of his leather jacket.

The digital tone purred promisingly into his ear for a few minutes, before the connection clicked to life.

"_Hello?_"

Kirk grinned. "What are you doing tonight?"

"_Getting roaring drunk, skinny dipping in Sacramento River and waking up with a raging hangover,_" Valravn told him, her trademark sarcasm injected into every word. Kirk snickered appreciatively, his breath crystallising and dispersing as he continued his brisk pace. "_Why?_"

"I was being serious," Jim replied, mock-offended, before lapsing quickly back into his warm tone. "I was thinking we could keep up last year's tradition. If you're up for it."

"_Oh? __Which part, specifically?_" Her voice might have registered as deeply cutting, were it anyone else but him listening- but Kirk detected a tremble of laughter hidden behind her emotionless tone, and smirked triumphantly. "_The part where we sit in my uncle's apartment, watching ancient films and eating ice cream, the part where we go out drinking beforehand, or the part where we break the law doing the latter?_"

"I still hold that it is a stupid law to begin with," Kirk said defensively, glaring up at the glittering skyline as though it was somehow at fault for the United States' alcohol regulation. "Eighteen is plenty old enough to be drinking in a bar. Besides, that's the legal age in England, and you're technically English, so it's not _that_ illegal. Not that anyone actually cares. Just look at last time. Really, all you have to do is flash your academy ID to the bartender and they make the assumption-" At the light laugh resonating through his communicator, Jim shook his head forcefully, realising that he was rambling. "Okay, look, that isn't the point- you don't have to drink at the bar if you don't want to. Whatever you want, V. Just- are you in? Continuing our tradition for the last New Year's Eve at Starfleet Academy?"

Jim heard a soft rustle- her hair brushing against the receiver as she switched hands. "_I thought we only went out last year because you thought I was still feeling raw over Keval,_" Valravn asked, sounding genuinely confused. "_Which, I am willing to admit, perhaps I was. But since when was this _tradition_?_"

"Since I said so. Let's make it one," Kirk said, his head still tilted up to gaze into the rapidly darkening skies. They were turning a royal shade of sapphire in the east, and the brightest stars were beginning to flicker hesitantly in the waning light. "Let's face it, V, we might not end up on the same starship after we graduate, so we may as well make this one count- just in case. Right?"

There was a pause, punctuated by a thoughtful exhale. "_And you're certain that you wouldn't rather be, oh, chasing after a particularly gorgeous conquest instead?_"

Kirk frowned, coming to a halt. He turned, leaning against the base of a streetlight. "Huh? No, of course not. If I wanted to celebrate the New Year that way, I wouldn't have called, would I?"

"_Hmm._" He could have been mistaken, but Valravn sounded quietly pleased. "_So, if you had to choose between a one-night stand with a model, and a sexless night with me-_"

"No contest. Why would I want someone who can't even string together a coherent sentence without conference-calling their friends first when I could have you?" Kirk shrugged, raking his fingers through his hair. "I'd have to be crazy. You are the best of both worlds, V- I mean, minus the fantastic sex aspect, of course. N-no, wait- damn it, that came out wrong- I meant- uh, you know, no offence intended- I'm sure sex with you would be fantastic-" Jim bit his tongue, fairly sure that Valravn was smirking by now on the other end on the line. "Uh. Please don't tell Captain Pike about this conversation. I'm pretty sure he would kill me and make sure that no one ever found the body."

"_Don't be ridiculous, Uncle Chris wouldn't murder his protégé. He would just ensure that your entire Starfleet career consisted of a far-flung post on an arctic-climate planet,_" Valravn informed him pleasantly. Kirk shivered, despite knowing that she was teasing him- most likely. "_But I won't say anything, just in case. I would hate to think of your sparkling wit being wasted on nothing but ice and rock._"

"Appreciate it, sweetheart," Jim hummed out, flashing his most brilliant smile, hoping that seeped into his voice. "Ah, come on, V. Take pity on me. Everyone else left for winter break. Even Bones is in Georgia visiting his daughter."

"_I know,_" Valravn murmured in agreement, the soft hitch of her breath telegraphing that she had just hoisted herself up to sit atop a table- probably crossing her legs, one knee over the other, the way she did when she finally released her mind from work and studying and simply talked. "_I never thought that San Francisco could feel like such a ghost town. Everyone seems to be away this year. Uhura went to spend the holidays with her family, and she took Gaila with her- I think Amrit is out of the solar system entirely- Hai is in somewhere in Australia observing solar flares… and Uncle Christopher is still away on some peacekeeping mission._"

"So… is that a yes?" Jim asked hopefully.

Valravn heaved a sigh. "_Y__es. But we're eating before we go out. I'll cook something._"

Kirk lit up instantly. Valravn was surprisingly talented in the culinary arts, especially concerning desserts and sweets. The previous summer, she had made a superbly dramatic Baked Alaska for Uhura's birthday: the meringue shell had been meticulously sculpted into the graceful shape of a swan, its body filled with mango ice cream and genoise sponge, and covered with sugared orange and yellow blossoms. In the sweltering heat, she had been terrified that the ice cream would melt, so Kirk had rigged up a powerful but lightweight cooling system under the transport case to keep it chilled.

"Great. What were you thinking?"

"_No idea. Let me check what we have,_" Valravn said, the sound of her bare feet padding on cold tiles followed by the swish and low hum of a refrigerator door opening in the background. Kirk smiled to himself, imagining her wandering around her uncle's apartment, as relaxed as he ever saw her; her dark hair braided immaculately, as always, but dressed casually in a pair of black shorts and tank top, the kind that clung to her figure without her noticing and accentuated her legs. "_Um… how does flash-fried chicken, and- hm… peppers stuffed with feta and cherry tomatoes sound?_"

Kirk voiced his approval with a deep groan of delight. "Perfect."

"_Great. Pick up some olive oil on your way- extra virgin. And sea salt._"

"Can do. Ice cream?"

"_Chocolate fudge brownie and caramel? I have a tub of cookie dough and maple syrup each already._"

"Of course. Anything else you want?"

"_Just you and your sparkling wit,_" Valravn replied in a voice like satin, before terminating the call.

Kirk burst out laughing, secretly flattered.

* * *

The sweet peppery tang of classic Mediterranean cuisine lingered in his mouth as they lounged at a corner table at the bar, a measure of whiskey each poured out into the wells of their short cut-glass tumblers- Valravn had decided to drink after all, just as Kirk knew she would. She was reclined in the leather seat opposite him, dark and cool and languorous, wrapped up in a pretty little black dress that implanted sinful images into his head, her hair pulled back from her face, the long silken rope of her braid resting over a bare shoulder. The onyx strands flared with a subtle iridescent sheen- the colours of distant galaxies, a glaze of emerald and dark sapphire slashed with translucent ruby- underneath the low lighting of the bar, like raven feathers. The hair cuff he had given her last year clasped held the braid together, hairline fractures of electric blue flashing within the dark metal.

Valravn had charitably let him choose the bar, and Jim had immediately suggested one of his most frequented- where, at the very least, he knew she would approve of the music played. Kirk had finally corrupted her; though she preferred the punk and alternative era a few decades younger than his centuries-old rock, he counted it as a resounding victory.

Still, Kirk could see the hint of a distracted glaze to her eyes, and he knew it wasn't from the alcohol.

"Something on your mind, V?"

Her gaze flicked to him, and she smiled, cherry lip-gloss gleaming. Valravn smoothly crossed her legs under the scrubbed walnut table, the hem of her dress riding further up her thighs in a tantalising tensing of fabric. "Should I even bother lying?"

Kirk shifted, quietly smothering the rather vocal part of his brain that seemed to insist his physical attraction to her was something he should pursue- which he couldn't and _wouldn't,_ despite very much wanting to. He had too much to lose if it fell apart, and he didn't mean via Christopher Pike's inescapable wrath. "Nope," he said nonchalantly, taking a swig of his drink and attempting afresh to ignore the skin exposed to him by her relatively modest outfit. Several of the other patrons certainly weren't. Appreciatively gazes raked over her, from the neckline- held up by two fine silver chains, crossing over her chest and fastening behind her shoulders- down her bare, long legs to her shoes, each kitten heel glittering with a tiny swirl of crystals. Jim resisted the desire to shift closer to her protectively. "And excuses about how it will kill the vibe are pretty useless too, seeing as how neither of us is going to be able to relax until you tell me."

"Hm. Point taken." Valravn picked up her glass and took a sip, leaving a dark print of glittering lipstick on the rim. "It's nothing, really. Or nothing particularly urgent. The good captain and I had a minor disagreement before he left on that mission. Well- _disagreement_ might be putting it mildly. I'm- just wondering whether I should call and apologise."

"Depends," Kirk said thoughtfully, his voice echoing into his glass. "Was it your fault? The argument?"

"Yes. I mean, no." Valravn sighed despairingly, sinking down in her seat gracelessly, her expression increasingly helpless. "I- well, I don't know, _maybe."_

Jim immediately straightened, worry and curiosity piqued. "Jesus, V. What was it about?"

Valravn hesitated for a split second. "My specialism." She paused, biting the inside of her cheek, gazing down into the liquid amber swirling at the bottom of her glass. "He… wants me to drop security and transfer into command."

Kirk's mind ground to a stunned halt.

Captain Christopher Pike- his mentor, more rational and level-headed than Kirk could ever dream of being, sharp as a tack and an expert at gauging potential- had told his niece not to go into security. Valravn Scarlett Winter: one of the best close combat fighters at the academy, who was taking extra courses from every Starfleet pathway available- command, science, engineering- in order to qualify for the highest echelons of Starfleet defence, incorporating tactical training, weapons design and a number of non-Terran languages, including Klingon, Vulcan and Romulan- in all of which she was fluent.

He found himself blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Was he high?"

"Wha- _James_!"

Any other time, her unguarded surprise would have been amusing. However, at the moment, Kirk was far too incredulous- and indignant on her behalf.

"Was he _drunk_?"

"What?! James, no-"

"Brain damage? Hypnosis?"

"_N_-"

"Then there is no explanation as to why Pike would say anything so monumentally _stupid."_

"_Kirk_," Valravn sighed, rubbing her temple with two fingers, resorting to the rare use of his surname in her frustration, "not that I don't appreciate your voracious support in my favour, really- but it's not exactly helping."

Jim stared her down intensely. "You are _not_ at fault, V," he said tonelessly. "You are doing one of the most difficult, complex and competitive specialisms at Starfleet- not just any regular security training, but _high clearance_- and passing with flying colours. You'll probably end up on the bridge as chief of security by the time you hit twenty, which would make you personally responsible for the security of the ship and the safety of every single senior crew member, captain included. And Pike- he wants you to _switch_ to _command_?"

Valravn raised her eyes to meet his- almost like the fierce burning light of a blue star, their almond shape defined by a border of smoke-black eyeliner- just like the night he first met her. The only real difference was that they were now glimmering with a painful uncertainty. "Uncle Chris thinks I would be more valuable there. That I'm wasting my potential."

"He's wrong," Kirk said flatly, quietly furious that Valravn's bulletproof confidence had been so badly shaken. "Besides. You'll still end up in a command position, most likely. But combat and tactical coordination is what you excel in, beyond anything else. Anyone with half a brain cell could see that."

Valravn tapped her glass with a fingernail moodily. "I know that- intellectually. But I… How exactly do you go about explaining to someone that you admire them and want to be like them, but you don't want to _be_ them?"

"Tell me if you figure it out," Jim replied humourlessly, casting Valravn a gentle, sympathetic smile nonetheless. "I wouldn't worry. Pike will come around. Promise."

Valravn smiled into her whiskey. "You can't promise that, James."

"Watch me," Kirk replied lightly, draining his glass. "And even if I can't, I bet it made you feel better, anyway."

She laughed. "Of course. As always. I don't know how you do it, but thank you." Kirk was relieved to see the sombre aura finally lifting away from Valravn, still smiling as she knocked her drink back in a single move. The motion revealing the slender column of her throat, and Jim envisaged pressing his lips and tongue against the soft flesh of her pulse point, her head thrown back in raw ecstasy underneath his mouth as his fingers traced the hem of her dress- an image so vivid that he could almost taste the salt on her skin. He instantly garrotted the thought, his body burning.

"I think I might try a house cocktail… the Black Dahlia looks good."

"Ah- yeah. Chambord and Kahlua. Raspberry and coffee. That's your kind of drink," Kirk rattled off, flustered, muscles tightening deep in his abdomen.

"Great. I'll get you another whiskey while I'm up there." Valravn slid out of her seat smoothly. "Oh- and while I'm gone, maybe you could pass the time by thinking of how to explain to me exactly how you missed the curvaceous redhead that has been in your direct line of sight for the past twenty-six minutes."

She left before Jim could formulate a reply, an amused lilt in her step, her dress shimmering, clinging to her form. As she melted into the throng, Kirk's gaze flicked up to where Valravn indicated, just over where her left shoulder had been previously; the young woman she must have been referring to was met his gaze flirtatiously and looked away, the seat next to her conspicuously empty. Kirk skimmed over her- and, despite her being downright appetising, he felt _nothing_; that was, aside from the indifferent sentiment that she might look better in pale blue than the dark umber concoction she was poured into.

Jim looked away.

He really needed another drink.

* * *

_December 31, 2257 –U.S.S. _Yorktown_; Alpha Quadrant_

"Captain, forgive me if it is not my place to speak of such personal matters, but there appears to be something preying upon your mind. That is, assuming that you uncharacteristic unproductivity is of indication."

Pike gave a distracted, vague noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat.

"Captain?"

The commander caught Pike's full attention this time. He turned away from the glowing screen displaying his half-completed report, towards his science officer- seated across the small chamber at his own terminal, his expression unreadable as ever, spine perpendicular to his seat and his posture perfectly formal and ergonomic. Pike rubbed his forehead wearily, exhaustion of both mind and body weighing his thoughts down as though his blood had been replaced with mercury. "Yes- sorry, Spock. It's been a long twenty-four hours…"

"I understand, Captain," Spock said with the slightest inclination of his head, the efficient cut of his hair gleaming under the bright lights, the distinctive point of his ears knifing up through the obsidian strands. "If there is any way I can be of assistance, please know that you need only ask."

Pike smiled wryly. "Thank you, Spock, but it's a- private matter. Nothing for you to be concerned about."

"Ah." The half-Vulcan looked mildly uncomfortable for a moment. "Forgive me, Captain."

"What? Oh. No, no, I appreciate it," Pike said swiftly, sitting up straight with a heavy exhalation. "Believe me, if I were to discuss it with anyone aboard this ship, you would be the immediate choice. But I can't ask you to do that, not in good conscience. Being burdened with your superior officer's personal problems isn't exactly part of your job description."

"Perhaps," Spock conceded. "However, my offer still stands, Captain. Perhaps the clash of personal professional agendas may prove an advantage, as I am more likely to hold an objective view." He paused deliberately. "Also, I would hasten to point out that you did not make any request of me. I offered without any prompting."

Pike was silent for a long moment, Spock patiently gazing at him with dark eyes- Human in colour, Vulcan in their impenetrable state. "Alright. Cadet Valravn Winter. You are her personal tutor at the academy, correct?"

Betraying no hint of emotion, Spock said, "Yes. She has been under my supervision since her enrolment forty months ago."

"If you knew nothing about my genetic relation to her, and I asked about her performance, what would you tell me?"

Exactly as Pike had hoped, Spock was as dispassionately honest as ever. "I have very few criticisms, Captain. She is remarkably intelligent. Her dedication and work ethic are unquestionable. Her speed in both intellectual and physical settings is extraordinary for a Human, and even by wider humanoid standards. Her performance is constant. She is an astounding talent in many disciplines, and will make an invaluable member of Starfleet upon her graduation. Her apparent emotional introversion may be somewhat problematic in her future career, though it remains to be seen; her contributions are valuable, and she works amiably enough with colleagues, but she appears to have connections with only a select few."

"And her specialism? What do you think of that?" Pike enquired, the strumming of his fingers against his leather armrest the only outward sign of anxiety.

For the first time, Spock hesitated; however, to his credit, it lasted for only a millisecond. "A sound choice. If Cadet Winter had not selected it for herself, I would have suggested it to her."

Pike felt a twist of guilt in his stomach, but pushed further. "And her future career," he continued, "if she pursues it to the fullest, what can she expect?"

"Successful in the highest degree," Spock informed him in a one that offered fact and professional opinion, devoid of sentiment or bias. The commander was not the type to select favourites amongst the cadets- and if he was, it was in reward for pure undeniable merit and personal connection. Pike had the sneaking suspicion that Valravn was counter among that number, or at least on the periphery of that group. "My calculations predict the likelihood of her assignment to the ship of her choice upon graduation is approximately 94.8296 per cent. That statistic includes the likely event that said first choice will be the already heavily oversubscribed new flagship, the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. Furthermore, the probability of her assignment as a senior crew member aboard the vessel, should her performance continue its current trend, is 67.422 per cent, with an additional 19.9795801 per cent chance that she will be selected as hostile operations specialist."

"In other words, her career in security would be fairly sparkling." Pike paused pointedly. "That _is_ what you're saying?"

"Indeed, Captain."

Pike sat back in his chair, and began laughing softly, his heart sinking in bittersweet defeat. The weight that had been dragging down upon his mind transformed into a ballast, stabilising him and forcing him to see reason: a command career would probably be slightly safer, and Pike truly did believe that his niece would flourish in such a position- but it was not his choice, and if the logic aligned with her- he had no room to argue.

"Well, there it is. Thank you, Spock. It would seem that when we get back to Earth, I will have some apologising to do."

* * *

_December 31, 2257 – California, Earth_

Logic had told Valravn that the idea was insane from the start, but unfortunately, rational thinking came secondary to wild impulsiveness when the physical support system of the mind was saturated with adrenaline and sugar and alcohol.

She blamed Kirk, personally. He had a way of making her reckless.

The moon hung low in the sky, the colour of rust, growing brighter and paler as it began its smooth curve of ascent, turning to the colour of cream; in a the next twenty minutes, by the time the year 2258 began, it would be ivory. The incomplete, broken structure of a skyscraper under construction towered above the streets of slick frozen asphalt, several block away from Christopher Pike's apartment: twenty storeys of new glass and unblemished concrete built and locked into existence. The remaining exposed innards of the last fifteen were still hollow, walls and floors and ceilings either non-existent or heavily fragmented, temporarily protected from the elements with the primitive method of plastic tarp coverings and rope. Built up around it was a skeleton of steel, bolted into an immense scaffold; the framework went as high as the top floor, traversing its limits by several feet, each beam wide enough to sit across comfortably and peppered with narrow work platforms.

It was from one of these platforms, at a soaring altitude that seemed to brush its fingertips against the very heavens, that Valravn and Jim overlooked the city- their fingers loosely entangled, still trembling with exhilaration, their breathing shallow with exertion and the sweat on their skin cooling and evaporating. Valravn's heart was still beating a hard rhythmic tattoo against her sternum, the wind biting her flesh, cold air scouring out her lungs. It had begun to snow, lightly- intricate fragments of ice melted against their skin in the heat surging up from their veins, the city filling with a faint veil of cascading, flawless white.

It was, quite possibly, the most bizarre and fantastic thing she had ever done. Scaling the scaffolding- the wind tearing at her, seeping through her dress, the girder that was her makeshift ladder broader than her entire body and treacherously smooth underneath her grip, Kirk climbing the strut only a few feet away with a familiar wild glint in his eyes- Valravn felt as though she was literally clawing her way up to the stars.

Her nails scraped against the leather sleeve of his jacket, and she left her head fall back against the low horizontal beam behind them. Under the city lights and the glow of the falling snow, Jim's eyes were a beautiful crystalline turquoise, cutting through the desaturated, near monochrome hues that the night painted the planet into.

She shivered, and not entirely because of the cold.

Kirk suddenly chuckled, lazily swivelling his head to look at her. "You just climbed thirty storeys of industrial scaffolding in a cocktail dress and heels."

Valravn giggled, still trying to remember how to breathe. "I know. And you _let_ me."

They dissolved into breathless laughter at the absurdity of it all; even Valravn, for all her skill in debate, could not find a way to argue that the view was a good enough justification for breaking into the construction site and scaling the unfinished building by hand, and act not only twice as illegal as her drinking, but approximately fifty times more dangerous. Shifting into the warmth emanating from Kirk at feeling him do the same, Valravn curled one bare leg underneath her, the other hanging just over the edge of the platform, making the tips of her fingers tingle with a delicious fear.

Finally, recovering, Kirk said, "Can we agree that, no matter how cool this story would be as an anecdote for what we did over the winter break, we cannot tell anyone, _ever?_ Everything always gets back to Pike somehow."

"Agreed," Valravn sighed, intoxicated by the madness the night had bought her. Her smile refused to fade, and she dragged in an icy breath to tell Jim that this was really all his fault- she never would have concocted this crazy idea while sober, and he was the one who had seduced her into coming with him to the bar in the first place- but the words dissolved somewhere between her brain and her tongue.

Instead, she found herself examining his profile as he looked out across the horizon.

Valravn visually traced the straight slope of his nose, down to the supple shape of his mouth, across to his jaw, following the strong subtle tendon of his carotid artery curving along the column of his throat, disappearing below the collar of his t-shirt and leather jacket. His chest was broad, shoulders strong, his physique sculpted by compulsory training and practice sessions with her; she knew the strength below the weathered grey cotton of his shirt, knew both the power of his blows and the warm weight of his arm around her shoulders, knew the few scars on his skin, stark white against rich golden tan, the stories behind them and why they had not been healed and erased by modern medicine.

Finally, her eyes examined his- clear blue irises that were entirely too easy to be entranced by, tinted with a hint of green, the colour of Earth's oceans, flickering and soaking in the sight of the city sprawling before them, and oblivious to her examination- all framed by an array of dark gold lashes.

From the very moment they met, Valravn had seen flickers of each facet of James Tiberius Kirk in those eyes: the rebel whose heels were chased by trouble, the handsome flirt, the reckless idiot, the intelligent cadet and the potential that had drawn Christopher Pike to mentor him, the sincere heart and mind in the depths below the shallow façade- she had only been sixteen, but she had been attracted to all of it, in both mind and body.

She felt it; the energy swirling in her chest, in her bones. Valravn wanted him, everything of him, every virtue and vice, perfection and flaw, in a way she would never want anything else in the entire vast universe.

The idea terrified her.

Kirk suddenly turned towards her, making her heart jolt up into her throat, chokingly. "Tell me your greatest desires," he said softly.

Valravn swallowed her racing heart, grasping at the first reply her panicked mind tossed out to her. "Tell me a secret."

Kirk's brows knitted together, a slight smile creeping across his mouth. "Aren't they basically the same thing?"

"Not necessarily," Valravn said smoothly, crushing the molten heat dripping and pooling in the pit of her stomach- and all from his _smile_. Valravn decided that his looks should be illegal. "Just because certain qualities align, that doesn't make them the same."

Jim smiled, dragging in a breath an exhaling sharply. "Tell me something," he modified.

Valravn paused, taking the distraction for what it was, and thought for a moment before saying, "I was terrified on my first day at Starfleet Academy."

"Really?" Kirk was openly surprised by her admission.

"Sure," she said with a shrug, running her free hand along the platform idly, her mind drifting. The city glittered below and around them, silence pervading the air. "I was only fourteen, don't forget. And I had battled for so long with Chris, just to get him to agree to going into the academy so early, that I knew I had to do it alone- if not to prove something to him, then to myself. And I was alone- surrounded by a class who had already attended some of the best universities in the galaxy. I was nervous, more than I realised at the time. But, then- it was about mid-morning, not long after the welcoming seminar. I was looking for the Xihe Block when I collided with someone else on the path. She was a first-year- post-graduate, like almost everyone else. I was about to start apologising when I realised that she was already apologising to _me_- saying that she sorry, it was her fault completely, she had been focused on the map on her PADD." Valravn relaxed slightly, the recollection of that moment warming her insides. "I could see instantly that she was just as out of her element as I was. As it turned out, we were both registered in the same accommodation block, so we combined forces. She was nice- she could tell I was younger than her, but she didn't care in the least. And the first time someone bought it up as a negative, she assisted in verbally eviscerating them."

Kirk suddenly laughed. "Wait, wait- this first-year: Uhura?"

"Uhura," Valravn confirmed with a fond smile. "Of course. I believe it's your turn- only fair."

"Okay." Kirk sat back, suddenly pensive. The fabric of his jeans shifted against her bare knee with the motion, sparking her nerves, and his fingers locked securely into hers. "Alright. I love vintage tuff, you know that: clothes, music, cars, you name it. It's because of my father. One of the things I would do, when Frank was away, was look through his stuff in the attic, and that's how I go into it. When I left home when I was- ah, about fourteen, funnily enough- I took a lot of it with me. The vinyl records, especially, I kept. I've still got them all in storage."

Valravn cocked her head at him curiously. "I never knew that. But -that's not the secret, though."

"No," Jim admitted. He paused. "My father collected antique cars, just like my grandfather. When I was a kid, I wrecked his favourite- a red Corvette, convertible, retrofitted with a hydrogen engine."

Valravn was horrified. "A classic like that, and you _wrecked_ it?!"

"Frank was going to sell it." Kirk said simply.

"Ah." She understood instantly; Kirk would have done anything to oppose his stepfather, and he would rather see his father's possessions destroyed than sold off by his replacement. "Speaking of classic cars: last summer, the road trip."

Jim's expression immediately brightened, blossoming like the dawn at the memory. Somehow- and Valravn was still unsure about exactly how he had done it- in the spring of that year, Kirk had persuaded her that a planet-wide road trip would be preferable to another placement or internship, and obtained Pike's permission. They sourced an ancient sky-coloured VW camper van, bought it and refurbished every inch by hand, from its engine to interior. That summer had been a blur of freeways and narrow country lanes, sleepless metropolitan cities and forgotten glens, clear skies decorated with swirls of millions of stars; they had seen ethereal waterfalls in South America, the icy tundra of Canada, the smelting heat of the African continent; they glanced over the cool elegance of Asian Buddhist temples, the cathedrals and citadels of Italy and France, the Swiss Alps; their route even veered onto Britannia and into England, where Valravn introduced Kirk to the blend of serene countryside, thousand-year old landmarks and sparkling thriving urban tracts that she had grown up with.

Valravn shook herself out of her reverie. "Remember that song that came on the radio just as we were leaving the city limits? With the windows rolled down and the sunroof open-?"

"Oh, yeah. That ridiculously cheesy old one- The 'cup song'? _When I'm Gone_? God, I loved that."

"Yeah." She braced herself, and sacrificed her pride for the one person in the universe she trusted with it. "I, ah- I might, just possibly… sing that in one of the private music rooms when I feel especially stressed," she confessed, abashed. "It… reminds me of summer."

Kirk bit his lip, restraining a smirk. "What, you mean- with the cup and everything-?"

"_Yes_," Valravn groaned, resting her forehead on his shoulder to hide her heating face from view. Jim was valiantly attempting not to laugh, but she could feel the deep rumble of a chuckle low in his chest.

"I, uh- I used to pretend I was sick when I had a test in school."

Valravn rolled her eyes, smiling at his attempt to distract her as she lifted her head. "Oh, we all did that. I was _never_ ill- I don't think I've ever had so much as a cold. But my mother used to dote on me whenever she thought I was feeling even a little unwell. She would stay home from work the entire day to look after me."

"That's sweet," Kirk murmured. His eyes suddenly sparked with humour. "Sometimes I put chocolate milk on my cereal."

"I can count on one hand the number of people who have seen me with my hair loose."

"I'd like to be one of them, someday." Jim drew in a breath. "Jellyfish are kind of terrifying to me- I don't know what the hell it is. Maybe it's because they're basically ninety per cent water, or they don't have brains and are barely more complex than bacteria, but… urgh."

Valravn stifled a laugh. "Huh. Okay, noted. Ah- I actually sort of love it when you whistle pieces of classical music to announce your presence."

"I'll be sure to do it more often, then. Um… garter stockings are a turn-on for me."

"I love rain because it reminds me of England."

"I want to sleep with you."

Valravn felt something hot lance through her. Her blood simmered, threatening all coherent thought.

"That's hardly a secret," she attempted teasingly.

"Nah, that's not what I meant, V," Kirk said, shaking his head, looking out across the skyline. "I didn't mean- just, you know, _sex_. Sex is sex. I could get that anywhere. But it would be different with you."

He was _serious_, Valravn realised with a jolt. "How so?" She forced out, her throat closing up.

Kirk sighed. "Well, alright- part of it _is_ sex- I mean, you're gorgeous, V. If we hadn't met the way we did, if I hadn't known you for two years and we met for the first time in some random bar tonight, I'd go after you for a quick fuck, I'm not going to lie. But the truth is… I've never slept with anyone that I was attracted to for their mind- at least, before their body. And I've never slept with anyone that I've had a deep emotional connection with either- not like between us." He shrugged, still not looking at her. "I just think it would be… different. Good different, though- really good. In fact, I think it would be goddamn mind-blowing. The fact that you're flexible and incredibly beautiful is really just a bonus."

Valravn was finding it hard to breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe?

"Well- that's, um-" Her mind was numb with a haze of shock. She wanted to melt into the shadows and never emerge again. She wanted to lean forwards and kiss him senseless. She wanted to avoid getting her heart broken, as was inevitable if she allowed herself to follow it blindly. "It- aligns with my… previous… musings… uh…"

Kirk suddenly grinned brilliantly, turning to look at her. "Wait, _what_?"

Valravn realised what she had just said several seconds too late. "What?"

His smile grew. "You've _fantasied_ about me?"

"_No_," Valravn replied quickly, stiffening indignantly. "Imagining is very different from fantasising." _And I've done both. Extensively_.

"Was I good?" Jim asked, his tone more genuinely curious than salacious.

"I- well, okay, yes." Valravn was burning from the inside out. She was surprised that every stray flake of snow landing on her skin wasn't evaporating in a sizzling wisp of steam. "Very."

Jim hummed. "Interesting…"

Just as Valravn though she was about to become proof that perfectly healthy Humans could expire from excess stress attributed to embarrassment, she was rescued by the alarm of Kirk's watch.

"Sixty seconds until 2258," she announced at the delicate beep.

"They say that it's good luck to kiss on the New Year," Kirk said offhandedly. When Valravn fixed him with a steely glare, he only laughed.

"You- are- _awful_," she said, injecting all of the vitriol she could muster into the four short syllables.

"Nah, you don't really think that." He leaned forwards, eyes glittering with silent laughter. "You love me," he said softly, scanning her entire form languorously and adding a flirtatious wink for good measure.

Valravn's fingers shook, and she hid it with a hitch of her eyebrow. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

"I must. I haven't shoved you off this thing yet."

Kirk chucked again, glancing at his watch again, and the at her mouth. "Well. Only fifteen seconds more to convince you that we will both be cursed with horrible luck if we don't kiss at midnight. Any tips?"

"Ask me nicely," she blurted out without much thought, before cursing herself. _That's it- I am never drinking alcohol again, it disables my verbal filter._

"Valravn."

The use of her full name rather than the streamlined initial sent chills down her spine, his pronunciation soft and smooth.

She met his eyes. Kirk didn't pause to ask for permission.

His mouth covered hers just as the first traditional firework, signalling the New Year, screamed upwards and exploded in a shower of golden sparks. Jim's lips moved slowly, warm and supple and expert, his touch attentive, his thumb at her chin and his fingers trickling over neck. The sensations made her head spin, reaching desperate for something solid, an anchor. Her hands instinctively found his chest, shaking, her head dropping back weakly as he sucked on her lower lip. Streams of fire cascaded through her. Unable to resist, she reached up and raked her fingers through his dark gold hair, and was rewarded by an approving sigh.

It was simple and clean and sweet, and Valravn was addicted from the first instant. Through the endorphin-induced haze, her only articulate thought was a warning: _it's just a kiss. A_ kiss._ A stupid superstition. It doesn't _mean_ anything._

The way her lips were tingling, electrical shocks sparking throughout her entire body, begged to differ.

When Jim finally drew away gently, the midnight sky was full of cascades of vibrant colour amongst the snow, bursts of celebration erupting all over the city along with the lights in the sky.

"Happy New Year, Valravn," Kirk breathed, his hands still cupping her face, his forehead resting against hers.

His eyes were bright, liquid and warm. Valravn touched his mouth lightly with the pads of her fingers.

"Happy New Year, James," she replied in a whisper.

* * *

_January 9, 2258 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

He was in his dormitory room, halfway through relaying his winter break to McCoy as the latter unpacked, when he said it.

"Good god, man. You really are in love with her, aren't you?"

Kirk swore he could feel his heart seize up briefly. "I- _what_?"

"Ah, don't even try and deny it." McCoy said irritably, his smirk belying his tone, tossing a few shirts into an open drawer. "Personally, I think you're acting like most of your temporal lobe was scooped out with a spoon. But fortunately for you, of all the people Raven is least likely to beat into mush, you're top of the list, so I guess it could be worse."

Jim desperately tried to relocate his voice. "I- whoa, Bones, wait a second. What are you talking about?" He laughed incredulously. "I'm- I'm not in love with V."

"Yeah, sure you're not," McCoy intoned with a roll of his eyes. "That's why when you stumble in late at night these days, usually you actually _were_ studying, not- '_studying_'," he said, stressing the term to add a layer of euphemism that was not undeserved. "Your love life has gone from reality to urban legend. Watching you two sparring is more like foreplay- not to mention the stupid grin you get on your face every time she smiles at you, like some love-struck idiot. And the fact that you barely acknowledge the fact that anyone else is alive when she's around."

"I do have interests outside of getting laid," Kirk said defensively, somewhat insulted by the insinuation. "Even you have to admit that once you get into a conversation with V, you're hooked fast. You should see her in the debate team with Uhura and Hai. She gets this gleam in her eye, like-"

"And that's another thing," McCoy interrupted. "You talk about the girl constantly."

"Not- _constantly_," he said, increasingly uncomfortable. "She's a friend. And considering everything that she's done and the fact that she's only eighteen, I think she's pretty amazing, that's all. It's not like I'm not the only one who thinks that. Just ask the academy board." Kirk lifted an eyebrow. "Unless you're telling me that _they're_ all in love with her too."

The doctor turned on him, mouth set in a grim line. "Jim. You beat up her ex-boyfriend."

"He deserved it," Jim said darkly, still quietly infuriated by the memory of Keval.

"'Course he did, but that doesn't mean you weren't jealous. For those few months, you drove me crazy, going on about how you didn't know what she saw in him, how he didn't deserve her- and don't forget that I treated those injuries. That wasn't just rearranging his face on behalf of a friend, that was attempting pulverise him into plomeek soup because you love the girl and he hurt her and that pissed you off." McCoy sighed, his voice lowering. "Jim. Listen. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. The opposite, actually. I like Raven- well, what's not to like? She doesn't take any of your crap and is the first to tell you when you're being an arrogant bastard." Kirk had to chuckle slightly, supressing his rising sense of panic that McCoy honestly _knew_, and wasn't simply guessing. He could no longer run from it, not without the medical cadet berating him at every turn. "Look, she's good for you. And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're good for her too. You've mellowed her out- she's less likely to cut your heart out with a rusty scalpel now. Much more approachable."

Kirk collapsed weakly on the end of his bed. "Bones. Just- stop. Stop, okay? Please."

"Why?" McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm right? Because you're scared of admitting you actually feel something _real_?"

He looked up at his roommate, the irritable yet unfailing loyal doctor he had met three years ago on the shuttle to San Francisco, his friend from the first moment he had rattled off all of the faults that they could experience in space before offering Kirk a swig from a flask filled with brandy. "All of the above?" Kirk said softly.

McCoy seemed to deflate slightly with sympathy. "Ah, hell, Jim…"

Kirk slumped back against his mattress in despair, his façade breaking apart. "You're right," he muttered. "I love her. I _love_ her, I'm actually- I'm in love with her," he whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, inhaling sharply. "_Augh_, I hate this _feeling_- I just, I can't help it. It's ridiculous, Bones- I go to sleep thinking about the things she said, and I feel better the minute I see her in the morning, and if I don't see her for a few days I get this horrible feeling in my stomach and- you know, all anyone ever seems to see is this perfect elite cadet without any feeling, but Valravn's so _real,_ she's human, she's sweet and insecure and flawed and I see it, and… and I _love_ her."

Kirk heard his roommate abandon his unpacking, sitting next to him with a sigh, patting his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Jim chuckled humourlessly, arms dropping to his sides.

"I am so screwed."

"Oh, yeah."

"Gee, thanks a lot, Bones," Kirk said sarcastically. "I just poured out my heart to you, the least you could do was _lie_ or something. Your bedside manner seriously sucks."

"So I hear," McCoy said dryly, rising from the bed. "But, for the record- everybody in Starfleet knows that Raven can take a secret through Klingon torture to her grave, and not just classified ones about her work for HQ. For all we know, she could have been pining after you this whole time and is just a hell of a lot less obvious about it. Considering it took about me about a year, plus living in the same quarters as you, to figure out your feelings for her…"

Jim bit out a bitter, cynical laugh. "Yeah. Right_._ Okay. Valravn Winter is in love with me, sure. Come on, Bones, seriously… what are the chances of that?"


	5. Chapter V: The Kobayashi Maru

_**A/N: **So I finished this one sooner than predicted. And, yes, we are finally into canon events- though I admit that I may have switched one up a bit, because I heard how it was supposed to happen in the Prime timeline and kind of liked it too much not to use it._

_Also, can I get all gooey for a second and say how much I love you guys? Seriously. Every time I see a new alert or favourite or review, it makes me smile. This was far more successful than I ever thought it would be, and your support is kind of making me die of happiness right now._

_Oh, before I forget: some edits were made to the last chapter, if you read it when I first updated and didn't notice. An extra scene was added at the end, plus I asked the question of what you guys would think if I suggested increasing the rating and adding some Jim/Valravn smut. It's just a vague idea at the moment, but I'd like to hear your opinions._

_So, as ever- enjoy._

* * *

Chapter V  
_The Kobayashi Maru_

_May 2, 2258 – California, Earth_

"My life is over."

"That's just a _little_ hyperbolic, don't you think?"

Valravn covered the instinctive flutter of panic with dispassionate sarcasm, smoothly closing the references she had been organising on her PADD for a thesis and pushing the device aside. Valravn looked over the cadet who had collapsed before her with unintentional flair- slumped with his cheek resting atop the gleaming silver surface, on the opposite side of the table she had claimed by the front window of the quaint coffee-house overlooking the city streets- and automatically searched for any symptoms of physical injury. Once assured that he most likely wasn't quietly dying of poison or internal bleeding, Valravn relaxed, and soundlessly signalled to her favourite waitress for his usual order- adding, in the rudimentary Trill sign-language she had picked up over the months of patronage, for her to also bring a slice of treacle tart.

If James Kirk was this depressed, the only medicine was treacle tart. It was a law of the physical universe- a certainty equal to energy equalling mass multiplied the speed of light squared.

"You don't understand, V," Kirk murmured, his voice muffled and quietly agonised. "I mean it. My life- is _over_."

"You look reasonably alive to me." Kirk groaned pitifully in reply, and Valravn softened involuntarily, prodding his shoulder with a single index finger. "Alright, James. I have no idea what has made your usual blind optimism crawl into a shallow grave, but whatever it is, I have faith that it's nothing that you can't fight, circumvent or talk your way out of somehow."

She paused, leaning back as the brunette waitress set down a cup of coffee and a plate bearing a thick slab of tart, attended by a melting sphere of thick vanilla ice-cream. Once she had retreated to a safe distance, Valravn's hand slid over Kirk's shoulder again, dipping her head in an attempt to catch his gaze. Kirk finally raised his eyes to meet hers, despondent as the sky on a rainy day.

"Come on, James. Speak to me."

With a heavy sigh, Jim slowly sat up straight, pinching the bridge of his nose. Valravn took the opportunity to strip off her jacket, draping it over the back of her chair, leaving only her sleeveless black shirt underneath, and picked up a silver fork, handing it to Kirk. He caught sight of the dessert in front of them and laughed wryly, twirling the fork between his fingers for a moment before sinking it into the slice of tart. Valravn watched him closely, her hands lacing together and forming a bridge under her chin.

Taking a bite, Kirk said, "Okay… alright, but, first- how are things with Pike? You two still not talking? Or have you switched to doing that passive-aggressive thing that makes me want to kill myself whenever you do it to me?"

Valravn shot him an arctic look that told him she knew precisely what he was doing, and that she was highly unimpressed, but answered regardless. "No, the stalemate is officially broken. Chris called me into his office the other day. I was half-expecting a lecture, but he gave me a late birthday present."

"Oh? Do tell."

"A Venetian-style combat mask. A little ceremonial, maybe, but perfectly functional as a last barrier for protecting my eyes in a fight."

Kirk's clear blue eyes lit up hopefully, the clouds in his gaze shifting. "Does that mean what I think it does…?"

"Most likely. He won't say it, but I think Uncle Chris secretly proud of me for standing my ground," Valravn said thoughtfully, playing with the little charm hanging from her hair cuff. "Also, I suspect that he also had a revealing talk with someone specific- so I'll have to thank them later."

"You know I didn't say anything to him, V," Kirk said, confused. "I promised I wouldn't."

"Wasn't talking about you." Valravn took a deep draught of lukewarm coffee, thinking of how it was also probably the right time to answer those questions that Commander Spock didn't dare ask: yes, she knew about him and Uhura; no, she didn't intend to breathe a word to anyone; and, _yes_, she was willing to take the half-Vulcan commander on if he dared to ever make her friend cry. "So now that you're done with your pathetic attempt to distract me, perhaps we can focus on your problems. _Stars_, James-" Valravn reached over and, utterly at ease what probably should have been an overly familiar move- but felt completely natural- carded her fingers through his hair. "Look at your hair. It's actually _less than perfect_."

Kirk batted her hand away good-naturedly, smiling. "Shut up. Just because _I_ have to put work into looking good- not all of us wake up looking like a supermodel every morning. And don't even deny it, I saw you at your worst during last year's road trip, so I know from experience."

"I also usually woke up before you, so I had the chance to make myself marginally presentable. Besides, you never saw me with my hair down." Valravn fingered the sleek onyx plait spilling over her shoulder, the end coiling against her ribs. "It could be a mess out of this braid, and you would never know."

"Hm, I do believe you're right," Jim hummed out faux-contemplatively, tapping his fork against his plate with a grin. "Maybe I should see it loose. Y'know, so that I can make a fair judgement with all empirical evidence accounted for."

"Mm, nice try, cowboy," Valravn smirked. "What I look like with my hair down is a better kept secret than what I look like naked. Ah, now there's a novel thought for you. If you want to see it that badly, you could always find a way to sleep with me," she teased, a smile coiling at her mouth.

Kirk stabbed the slice of tart, scooping up a small globule of ice-cream with it. "Someday, Valravn Winter," he vowed in a darkly seductive tone.

A tongue of ice slid down her spine, and Valravn had to look away from his eyes, her gaze unfortunately falling directly on his mouth instead. She detected a smear of treacle glistening on his lower lip, and permitted herself a moment to fantasise about licking it off- having long since stopped trying to stem the flow of intimately lustful thoughts towards her- friend? Could Jim Kirk even be _called_ a mere _friend_ anymore? The connotations of that word seemed so utterly inadequate, but Valravn had the feeling that, if she thought about it for longer than a few microseconds, the delicate equilibrium she had established between them would be forever ruined.

"Yes, I'm sure you have some elaborate plan to make me swoon right into your arms." _Not that you need to._ "In the meantime, if you're not too busy implementing said futile plot: why have you been running your fingers through your hair for the last hour?"

"How did you-? Oh, never mind, you're _you_, of course you know how long I was-"

"_James_."

"Okay," Kirk sighed moodily, prodding his dessert with the prongs of his fork, suddenly devoid of appetite. "Alright, the truth is- I failed a simulation for the second time today."

Valravn physically felt her pulse spike in disbelief.

James Tiberius Kirk did _not_ fail simulations, not even when he was hung-over and operating on an hour's worth of sleep. He might score unnaturally low on the rarest of occasions, mostly because of the aforementioned factors, but he categorically did not _fail_; outraged, Valravn's mind sifted through the possible causes of such an anomaly in space of a heartbeat, theorising intrinsic defects in the programming, deliberate sabotage, unfair parameters-

Then she realised.

"You took the _Kobayashi Maru _twice?!"

"How the hell-?! Right, of course, it's _you_," Kirk muttered, raking his fingers through his already mussed hair. "The whole- _genius_ thing. I really should be used to it by now. Yeah. I- retook it. And failed. Again. Just like everybody said I would."

Valravn leaned back in her seat, a fond smile breaking through the almost permanent frost of her expression.

"James Kirk- you are the bravest man I have ever met."

Jim jabbed his tart morosely. "Don't you mean the _stupidest_?"

"That was implied. _Stop that,_" she admonished, taking the wayward fork from between his fingers and stealing a bite of his dessert. Kirk looked unoffended, mostly because he regularly pilfered slices of blood orange from her at breakfast every morning. "I mean it, James. That was very brave."

"Or insane."

"Strange how often those two seem to coincide," Valravn mused, popping another forkful of treacle filling into her mouth, and laying down the fork with a quiet _chink_. "But you've never been afraid of a little public dissent, or cared much for other people's opinions of you, so long as they recognise what you want them to. So why are you so- depressed?"

"Because I wanted to beat the damn test, _obviously_," Kirk snapped, glaring out of the window, his jaw clenching in frustration. "I wanted to prove that it wasn't _unwinnable_. I wanted to prove that any situation, no matter how dark or hopeless, can have something truly _good_ come out of it. And I wanted to do it _myself_."

Valravn was silent, considering his irritable outburst without personal affront.

"_Something truly good can come out of any situation, no matter how dark or hopeless_… spoken like a true captain," she said softly. Jim looked up, a shimmer of regret in his eyes.

"V… I'm sorry; I shouldn't take it out-"

"Don't apologise. You never have to apologise to me, James," Valravn cut him off coolly, resting her elbows atop the table and propping her chin against the heels of her hands. "Alright. You want to prove that no situation is completely unwinnable? Let's do it. What do you need?"

Kirk searched her eyes disbelievingly. "You're going to help me," he said with flat scepticism.

"Of course. _Every great captain needs an equally great crew, or they are nothing_. It wasn't me who said that." She laced her fingers together, crossing her legs in a single fluid motion, a smile creeping across her mouth. "I think you're right. No-win situations do not exist. The _Kobayashi Maru_ needs to be beaten. Tell me what you need from me, no questions asked, and I'll do it- _Captain_."

"You're serious, aren't you," Jim breathed, incredulous.

"Deadly."

"Are you sure about this, V?"

"What, you don't think I'm capable of helping you come up with a solution? You're James Kirk, in all your effortless brilliance," she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist, "and you just called me a genius not two minutes ago."

"You _are _a genius."

"So are you." Valravn pointed out, indignant on his behalf.

Kirk scoffed slightly, smiling affectionately. "Maybe. But not like you."

"It's different and you know it," she said, hardening. "You could command an entire starship; you inspire undying loyalty, you're decisive and intelligent, you can escape danger without a single bruise and ensure everybody else does the same. I can protect that starship against enemies. I can go into an impossible combat mission and force the odds in my favour, analyse pressure points in my enemies and plot an escape route while still in the middle of demolishing a phalanx formation of Klingons. You are made to preserve life, James." Valravn looked out of the window. "I am made to take it away. War- battle, death- it's the only think I've ever been good at."

She could feel Kirk watching her intently.

"It's not," he said decisively. "And even if it was, your speciality has the same result as mine: the protection of innocent lives. Don't say it like you are just a mindless murderer, Valravn, because you're not- okay? Every leader needs their champion, and one with a heart and conscience stronger than steel- and I would choose you every time."

Valravn didn't reply, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"So," Kirk's eyes turned to blue steel, and Valravn saw the makings of a man worthy of the title she had called him. Picking up the fork, breaking off another bite of the tart artfully and holding it aloft, he offered it out to Valravn brazenly. Smiling against her will, she leaned forwards, lips wrapping around the fork at the same moment he spoke. "You said _anything_?"

Valravn hitched an eyebrow, treacle melting on her tongue.

* * *

_May 10, 2258 – Xihe Block, Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

"Jim- I think I love you."

There was only one person Kirk wanted to hear those words from- the chances of which were very low, except in the deepest, most secret combs of his imagination- and unfortunately, it was not the gorgeous, half-naked green-skinned cadet currently writhing beneath his ministrations. In fact, during the entire encounter he had been thanking his good luck that the powerful sex pheromones exuded by the females of the non-Terran species were strong enough to mask the fact that, the entire time, he was thinking of the petite, dark-haired Human currently keeping aforementioned Orion's roommate busy in the long-range transmissions sensor lab. Jim was beginning to think that it was a very good thing that his own roommate wasn't psychic; if McCoy ever found out just how deeply Kirk felt about Valravn, he would never hear the end of it.

At her words, Kirk leaned back from Gaila's pleasurably heaving body, staring down at her face, half-concealed in the shadows cast by the room, still gasping for breath.

"That is so weird," he said breathlessly.

The moment he heard the words aloud, he mentally kicked himself.

"Lights," Gaila commanded tonelessly. She squirmed upwards and Kirk climbed off her, the bed a mess of parchment-coloured sheets in the newly illuminated room. "Did you just say _that is so weird_?"

"Yeah, I did," Jim began quickly, "but I-"

"You don't love me too?" Gaila teased, her hair a coppery cloud of tight, springing curls about her head.

Kirk knew that she was being manipulative- it came naturally, almost subconsciously, to Orion females, the art of seduction and keeping sexual partners under control- and he knew that Gaila had been hunting him for a while, as a golden notch in her bedpost. Still, Kirk liked her enough as a friend to want to protect her feelings, operating on the slim but very real possibility that her words held a sliver of authenticity.

Some part of himself quietly informed him that falling in love with Valravn Winter had ruined him.

Before he had the chance to formulate an adequate reply, there was a soft hiss of the door sliding open.

Gaila's expression descended into panic. "Oh my god, that's my roommate."

"What? I thought you said she was gone for the night." _Then again, V did say she could only guarantee me an hour or two, and she's already given me four…_

"Well, obviously, she's not," Gaila hissed, slapping his naked shoulder frantically. "Quick- you got to just- get under the bed!"

"_What?!_" With a quiet groan of exasperation, Kirk grudgingly rolled off and stood the opposite side of Gaila's bed, warmth evaporating off his skin. "Under the- _why_?"

"She can't see you here!"

"Why not?"

Gaila's expression turned slightly guilty, biting her ochre lips. "Because- I promised her I'd stop bringing guys back to the dorm," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

Jim suddenly frowned, processing this new information. "Wait- how- how many guys have you-?"

"_Shh_- just- _get down_-!"

Rolling his eyes, Kirk dropped to the floor and slid under the bed, the dark rust-coloured carpet scraping against his skin as he heard Gaila shift into what she no doubt thought was a nonchalant pose on the mattress above him. "Hey," she greeted the newcomers in an instinctively sultry tone, sweet as dried apricot.

From behind a forest of colourful high heels, cut-glass perfume bottles and various floral storage boxes, Kirk saw two pairs of black leather boots walk into view, one with a slight heel and possessing a naturally elegant gait he would recognise anywhere. "Hey," a slightly weary voice replied, its owner collapsing on the bed opposite and swiftly unzipping her boots, revealing a slice of bare skin the colour of cocoa. The other remained standing, tossing two PADDs and a jacket onto the bedspread, the flesh that Kirk could see just above the top of her boots pale and toned.

_Valravn._

"How are you?"

"Good. The strangest thing, though," Uhura's voice intoned thoughtfully. "We were in the long range sensor lab."

"Yeah, I thought all night."

_Subtle, Gaila,_ Kirk thought sarcastically. _Real subtle._

"I was tracking solar systems, and- I picked up an emergency transmission."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Uhura continued, stripping off her red turtleneck sweater and rising to toss it aside. "From the Klingon prison planet."

_"No…"_ Gaila said in a weak imitation of surprise and interest.

The oblivious xenolinguistics specialist unzipped her skirt and slid it off, letting it drop to the floor. Jim eyed her long legs vaguely, before returning his gaze to Valravn, who had sank down onto Uhura's bed and was apparently as ignorant to his presence as her friend. "A Klingon armada was destroyed- forty-seven ships. I mean- the odds of detecting a transmission, even on an emergency wavelength, without the right equipment are slim anyway. But the message itself… it's pretty crazy, right? Well, Raven, you're the combat expert here. Is that crazy?"

"What, forty-seven Klingon ships destroyed by a single rogue vessel? Yes, I would say that qualifies as relatively crazy," Valravn replied, voice warmed by a hint of amusement. "You have to wonder what kind of ship has that much raw firepower. I'd like to get my hands on it, or something very much like it."

"Raven, you're so militaristic," Uhura scolded gently.

"Haven't you ever heard of the saying, _if the enemy is in range, so are you_?" Valravn replied, without enmity. "If you can figure out how a weapon works, you can defend against it. Excuse my intellectual and scientific curiosity. I thought that was what Starfleet was established for, aside from keeping galactic peace- which a ship that happily kicks a Klingon armada into touch does not exactly sound conducive towards."

"So," Gaila interrupted, "you guys aren't going back to the lab tonight? Grabbing something to eat in town…?"

Kirk winced from his hiding place. _And the prize for most obvious cover-up ever goes to-_

"James, get out from under the bed," Valravn said in a profoundly bored tone.

Kirk emerged, taking Valravn's cue to keep up a façade, not in the least abashed by his state of undress. "How'd you know it was me?" He asked with a boyish grin.

"_You_!" Uhura exploded accusatorially, her dark eyes filling with fire. Kirk couldn't be too affected by her anger- he was too busy enjoying the fact that Valravn was distractedly soaking in the sight of his bare sculpted chest, his icy mask slipping and a hint of colour high in her cheeks as she visually traced over the defined, toned muscles.

"Big day tomorrow," he said lightly, gathering up his clothes. "See you in the simulation, V? You're still my second officer, right? I know you don't do full tactical usually, but it'll be good practice, security usually gets thrown into positions like that in an emergency. And, Uhura, they put you on comms, right-?"

"You're going to _fail_," Uhura declared with venom, hurling his jacket at him, her protective instinct over Valravn immediately triggered as she stood in front of the younger woman pointedly. Valravn rolled her eyes from behind her, smiling nevertheless, sweeping a thread of hair that had escaped from her efficient French braid behind her ear.

"_Gaila, see you around_," Jim said in perfect Orion Prime, watching the female in question smile salaciously at him before he turned back to the dark-haired girl shielded by a seething Uhura, switching smoothly to a beautiful dialect of French that he knew Valravn knew by heart. "_Seriously, how did you-_?"

"_I know your aftershave,_" Valravn replied without missing a beat, her accent as flawless as his. "_Now put your clothes on, before Uhura throws something._"

It was a lie, but it made Kirk smirk delightedly nevertheless. _"Really? I'm flattered that you pay so much attention to me- sweetheart_."

"_Out_!" Uhura snarled in Federation English, no doubt able to at least catch the gist of their conversation.

Kirk backed away towards the door. "Hey, if I pass, will you tell me your first name?"

"_No_," she said sharply. "Goodnight!"

Catching sight of Valravn from behind the honeycomb partition- holding back laughter at his antics, alabaster skin almost glowing, contrasting exotically with her midnight-coloured hair twisted back from her face, complimented by sharp blue eyes, beautiful and ethereal and uncanny in the sleek mundane room- Kirk couldn't resist pitching one last playful jab at Uhura.

"I think the fact that you picked up a transmission is _very_-"

Uhura smiled sarcastically, and the door slid closed in his face.

Ten minutes later, fully dressed and heading back to the Apollo Block with a triumphant lilt to his step, Kirk received a message on his communicator.

_You know you just make her  
dislike you _more_, right? Though  
I think you might be growing on  
her. A little.  
She's reaming out Gaila as I'm  
typing this. Any second, big sis  
Uhura will start on me. Did you  
at least get what you needed?_

_VSW_

Jim smiled and replied quickly, working by the solar-powered lights dotted along the path.

_All systems go, babydoll. Oh-  
BTW. Aftershave?_

_JTK_

A digital response came through just as he passed the main lecture hall, the alert chiming.

_I'm _babydoll_ now? Was  
_sweetheart_ not enough? And,  
yes, I wasn't lying. I actually  
_do_ know your aftershave-  
_chérie_._

_VSW_

* * *

_May 11, 2258 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

Valravn had never realised that anyone could sound simultaneously resentful, saccharine sweet and vaguely condescending before that moment; frankly, she was a little envious.

"We are receiving a distress signal from the USS _Kobayashi Maru_. The ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them."

Kirk swivelling in the high-backed command chair smoothly. "Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them… _Captain._"

Uhura scowled slightly and turned back to her console, the exact moment that the expected emergency sirens started blaring through the simulation bridge.

"Two Klingon vessels have entered the neutral zone," McCoy, somehow corralled into being Jim's first officer for the test, announced dully, "and they're locking weapons on us."

There was a quiet flurry of motion throughout the room, the atmosphere shifting; some cadets, less experienced than the fourth-years playing the role of senior officers, looked panicked or confused by the sudden hostilities. Valravn's composure, by comparison, never slipped for an instant. Her fingers were at her console, swift and silent, following protocol and securing all of the regular security measures, her thoughts drifting into how uncomfortable she felt in the ill-fitting, slate-grey uniform the cadets were required to wear for the simulation, even as she ordered for non-existent security teams to brace for attack. Granted, she preferred the colour to her usual red uniform, but it was just far too thick to be comfortable, at least by her standards. She would choose form-fitting over warmth in almost any situation.

Through her idle musings, she heard Kirk said cheerfully in response to his 'first officer', "That's okay."

Valravn arched an eyebrow. She knew he was cheating the simulation- though he hadn't told her how- but he didn't need to be so utterly _blatant_ about it. Although, as reactions went, she was sure that Kirk got points from the test administrators for originality.

"_That's okay_?" McCoy echoed, voicing the unspoken disbelief of their fellow cadets, and no doubt the examiners and technicians watching from the monitoring chamber above, like vultures. Valravn glanced up at the viewing windows, and quietly envied their sleek, lightweight, jet-black uniforms.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Jim said lightly, before casually whistling a few bars of classical music- from Sergei Rachmaninoff's second piano concerto, no less. The action and his overall demeanour earned him a plethora of utterly bemused looks from his 'crew', an exasperated roll of the eyes from his 'first officer', and invisible chills of delight running down Valravn's spine. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.

He was doing that deliberately.

"Three more Klingon warbirds de-cloaking and targeting our ship," McCoy reported, outright glaring at his friend. Valravn caught sight of Uhura staring at Kirk in growing confusion. "I don't suppose this is a problem either."

"They're firing on us, Captain," Valravn spoke up, tracking the shift in numbers before her.

"Alert medical bay to prepare to receive all crew members from the damaged ship," Kirk said, almost offhandedly, over his shoulder to Uhura.

Uhura bristled. "And how do you expect us to rescue them when we're surrounded by Klingons? _Captain_," she added his temporary title, not without virulence.

Jim swivelled towards Uhura with a smile, his sparkling blue eyes suddenly hard as topaz, his tone carrying a hint of steel.

"_Alert medical_," he ordered.

The 'communication's officer's' resultant compliant jab at her touch screen was nothing short of annoyed.

"Our ship is being hit. Shields at sixty per cent." McCoy said with increasing resignation, a siren now screaming the emergency state, the hawkish silhouettes of the Klingon ships swooping at the 'viewing screen' without pause or mercy. Valravn moved quickly at her console, litigating for the damage where she could and silently urging Kirk to put his plan into action before it was too late.

"I understand."

"Well, should we- oh, I don't know- _fire back_?" McCoy inquired testily, frustration mounting.

Kirk extracted an apple from his pocket, holding it between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, feigning deep thought. "No," he said eventually, sinking his teeth into the fruit with a crunch.

Valravn supressed the urge to clamp a despairing hand over her eyes. _Why did I have to fall in love with such a showboating _prick_?_

"Of course not-" The medical cadet muttered, just as every single screens of the replica command deck suddenly whined and flickered, as though the power had been cut.

Valravn stared at her station, watching it fizzle and hiss with static, her outward reaction no more than a single blink of confusion. Instrumentation veered wildly from extreme to extreme, their displayed figures climbing and falling rapidly, alert audio warped and cut out, crucial information streaming through to each console was dammed- and as quickly as it had started, it was over. The 'crew' looked at their terminals in confusion as they rebooted, powering back to life.

Jim hummed thoughtfully, rolling his apple between his fingers. "Hail the Klingon vessels. Tell them that they are facing Captain James Tiberius Kirk and that they are ordered to cease all hostilities. Arm photons and prepare to fire on all Klingon warbirds that do not give an immediate unconditional surrender."

Uhura, too astonished by the bizarre order to disobey it, turned back to her now functioning console. Valravn followed suit. "Yes, sir," she said, restraining a sigh and hoping against all evidence to the contrary that he knew what he was doing.

"_Jim_," Kirk's elected first officer spoke up. "Their shields are still up."

"Are they?" Kirk said innocently, taking another bite of his apple.

McCoy turned back to his terminal, his expression shifting from annoyed to astounded. "No," he said incredulously. "They're _not-"_

"Uh- four of the five Klingon warbirds are offering unconditional surrender. They are currently powering down their weapons," Uhura announced, openly astounded.

"And the fifth?" Jim prompted.

McCoy blinked at his screen, glancing over his shoulder at Kirk. "Has locked weapons on the inert _Kobayashi Maru_. Its shields are up and fully operational."

"Fire on the remaining enemy ship," Kirk commanded Valravn sharply. "A few good blasts should do, try not to waste ammunition. Five photons or so should do it."

"Aye, Captain," Valravn replied, crushing a bubble of laughter, tapping at the terminal screen before her deftly. "Target locked and acquired on remaining hostile warbird. Firing."

Each and every cadet on the bridge watched, incredulously, as a barrage of shots coasted towards the one Klingon warbird that refused to surrender, blasting the fearsome vessel into debris on the fourth hit. Kirk grinned, slouched stylishly in the command chair as though he owned it.

"Hostile ship destroyed, Captain." Valravn informed him smoothly.

"Contact Starfleet Command in request for backup to handle the surrendered Klingons, and begin rescue of the stranded crew," Kirk ordered in a flurry of words. "So," he said, rising suddenly, "we've managed to neutralise all hostile ships, no one on board was injured- _and…_ the successful rescue of the _Kobayashi Maru_ crew is underway."

He stopped dead and beamed up at the observation rooms above, taking another hearty bite of his apple- golden and full of hubris, like some ancient Greek hero who had just slaughtered a monster that had been terrorising Athens. Valravn covered her mouth, certain that if she didn't, she would start laughing aloud. He was awful- but that was _brilliant_.


	6. Chapter VI: Hand of Fate

_**A/N: **So, yet another I've churned out. The usual editing rules apply- I'll tweak it as I go, much like the previous chapters. And this note is mostly terse because it's two AM, and I have college and a Chemistry end of unit test in the morning._

_We are firmly in the movie right now. The beginning may be a little slow going as I figure out how to structure it- it may take us another chapter to get us to Vulcan. But- yeah. So, as always- enjoy. And therefore make me happy by enjoying it._

* * *

Chapter VI  
_Hand of Fate_

_May 14, 2258 – Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

"This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter. James T. Kirk, step forward."

It was upon occasions like this that the pragmatic side of Kirk was infinitely glad that he was friends with Valravn Winter. He knew that he was capable of, quite literally, charming the clothes off almost anyone he chose- but when it came to politics and using the nuances of professional persuasion, he was nowhere near as talented. Valravn, on the other hand, could talk circles around the best of the contenders, debating for hours and all the while keeping up a flawless façade of pure ice. To her, it was just another version of combat she had mastered, a weapon in her arsenal.

Therefore, when his name was called by Admiral Barnett in front of the assembly, he didn't panic. Kirk knew, that to get out of the pitfall he had slipped into, the one he knew he was risking ever since he had decided to take on the _Kobayashi Maru_ for the third time, he simply needed to think like Valravn- although, admittedly, she probably never would have gotten herself into this mess in the first place. Rising smoothly from his seat, ignoring McCoy's soft, concerned muttering about how Kirk had _gone and got yourself in trouble with the board, all to impress a girl_- which was not true, at least not entirely; the thing with the Klingons surrendering to him after hearing his name had been to impress Valravn, yes, just because he could, but the rest was for himself alone- Kirk stepped out of his row and onto the channel of steps to his left, forcing his exterior to remain utterly unperturbed the curious, probing gazes of his fellow cadets and the cold stares of the formidable panel arranged before him. His eyes scanned the stark white marble of the amphitheatre steps, filled with red uniforms, like a basin of blood, for a familiar figure. He didn't have to search long; Valravn was sat between Uhura and a cadet he identified as her friend Hai, cool and impassive. Her eyes met his, drawn up like a compass needle to the north, betraying a flicker of panic.

As best he could, Kirk telegraphed a single message in a single, cool stare: _say nothing. You were not involved._

Blue ice replied, brittle and frustrated. Jim knew, if he knew Valravn half as well as he thought he did, that she wanted to stand up and walk beside him, and to hell with the consequences. But he had made her promise not to speak of her involvement, no matter how slight it had been, and Valravn was powerless to do anything unless she was brought into this trial by his testimony- something he had carefully planned from the start.

She smoothed her sleeves out, and blinked once, deliberately. _Fine. But I'm here._

Jim inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement, and descended to the podium awaiting him. As he turned to face the panel- high, white leather seats arranged behind a crescent of polished honey-coloured wood and a number of black name plaques- he saw Pike watching his niece from his own seat carefully. Kirk had no doubt that Valravn's gaze in return was perfectly blank.

"Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting that you violated the Ethical Code of Conduct pursuant to regulation 17.43 of the Starfleet Code." The headmaster observed him grimly, implying the seriousness of the matter, but with an undeniably fair eye. "Is there anything you care to say before we begin?"

"Yes," Kirk said with confidence, his mind working quickly. He couldn't fight an enemy he couldn't see- therefore he couldn't counter an argument that he hadn't heard. "I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly."

Admiral Barnett nodded slightly, his gaze skimming past Kirk to a seat on the lower tier of the steps. Jim glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a figure dressed in the charcoal uniform of the tutors rise from his seat, straightening his jacket with perfunctory precision. Kirk registered the stature, the mathematically symmetrical cut of his hair, ears curving into a distinct point at the tips- humanoid, but not Human.

"Step forward, please," the headmaster requested. "This is Commander Spock. He is one of our most distinguished graduates." Kirk admitted that the name struck a faint chord of familiarity within him, though he couldn't place where he had heard it before. "He has programmed the _Kobayashi Maru_ exam for the last four years."

Jim glanced across at him and found the newcomer staring back emotionlessly. The opponents took each other in silently.

"Commander," Barnett prompted.

"Cadet Kirk, you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test."

"Your point being?" Kirk said coolly, silently wondering how they had worked it out so quickly. Catching a flash of vivid green flesh on his periphery, contained within a red cadet uniform, a halo of copper curls and rather tense-looking posture, he instantly realised precisely how.

"In academic vernacular- you cheated," the admiral said pointedly.

A rustle of motion passed throughout the hall, like a breeze passing through the trees, murmuring and dying away. Kirk steadied himself forcibly. "Let me ask you something that I think we all know the answer to," he said, directing his words at the commander. "The test itself is a cheat, isn't it? You programmed it to be unwinnable."

Commander Spock faced directly forwards, his composure rivalling even Valravn's. "Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario."

Kirk's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe in no-win scenarios," he declared flatly.

"Then not only did you violate the rules," the commander continued, "you also failed to understand the principle lesson."

"Please," Kirk said, forcing the vitriol he was feeling down, "enlighten me."

Spock raised a perfectly straight eyebrow, his head canting to one side subtly. "You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk: a captain cannot cheat death."

The assembly gave another low murmur, this time its mood indistinct and varying shades of surprise, comprehension and sympathy, but Jim could barely hear them. _A captain cannot cheat death._ A simmer of pure rage boiled hot and low in his stomach, and he had to look away, smiling without humour. "I of all people," he repeated hollowly, his voice low.

"Your father," the commander continued without halt, or overt malice, "Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?"

Kirk smiled coldly, trying to remember the last time he had felt the kind of raw fury building inside him that his opponent had dared to bring such a thing up. "I don't think you like the fact that I beat your test-"

"Furthermore, you have failed to divine the purpose of the test."

"Enlighten me again," Kirk said, his voice dangerously steady, a flame licking its way up into his chest cavity, searing at the flesh of his throat.

"The purpose is to experience fear," Spock informed him smoothly. "Fear in the face of certain death; to accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one's crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain."

Kirk closed his eyes briefly, burning with the threat of an emotion he had not felt since he was ten years old, feeling the gazes of a hundred fellow cadets on his back. He wished he could filter them down to just one- the one who he liked to imagine wanted to rip the commander's throat out for him.

The thought made him draw in a deep breath, remembering her words when they had discussed the _Kobayashi Maru_, what had made her agree with him so readily.

"Well," he spoke into the deafening silence, "it seems not only have _I_ failed to understand the purpose of the test, it seems that you have failed to realise the motivations behind my actions."

Kirk was annoyed when Spock betrayed no trace of emotion in his answer. "By all means, Cadet Kirk- enlighten _me_."

The delicate stress of his otherwise perfect monotone spurred Jim onwards furiously. "My actions were intended to demonstrate that a no-win scenario is as absurd as a flawless victory," he said, internally apologising to Valravn for stealing her words and blending them with his own; he was certain that she would forgive him, considering his situation. "If the _Kobayashi Maru_ is intended to test cadets under conditions of high pressure, there is no reason not to include the possibility of fulfilment of the mission objective- at _least_ in part- especially if actions taken by those being tested indicate it to be a strong possibility in a real situation. Furthermore, if, as you say, the test is intended to force cadets to experience fear in a life-or-death situation- it fails."

A quiet tensing of the gathering followed his words. Spock stared back, a single indecipherable brow hitching again.

Unrepentant, and knowing that he now commanded the attention of the entire room, Kirk continued powerfully. "Accepted psychology states that the only way to simulate an authentic humanoid reaction in the face of the possibility of death would be to make those being tested believe that there _is_ a real possibility of death. However, as everyone going into the simulation is aware that it is _just_ a simulation, your premise of _fear in the face of certain death_ collapses entirely. Furthermore," Jim drew himself up to his full height, fearlessly, "on the matter of the _no-win _situation. The universe does not work in simple, binary black and white scenarios of _success_ or _failure_. There are always shades of grey. I agree that an overall loss is sometimes inevitable, but as for your comment that _a captain cannot cheat death_? I am living proof that you might want to reconsider that assessment- and I know at least eight hundred souls who would agree with me."

A soft gasp and flutter of understanding whispers seethed up from the seats behind him- and Kirk was incredibly pleased to hear that they all sounded supportive.

Jim turned to address the board directly. "As I said: the point of my actions is that thinking outside the box is the job of a captain, especially when the safety of their crew and allies are in immediate peril- and to reiterate that _something_ can always be protected and gained in a seemingly _doomed_- or _no-win situation_."

Spock, a few feet away, was stiff and inscrutable. Those on the board conversed with each other inaudibly, and Jim caught the eye of his mentor: Pike looked deliberately disapproving, a sight that told Kirk that, at the very least, he was going to receive a lengthy re-education on ethical conduct from the captain later- but he also detected a hint of grudging pride at the corner of Pike's mouth.

Kirk relaxed slightly. At that very moment, Pike glanced up at the seats behind Kirk, and back to his protégé. Jim knew exactly who he had been looking at, and heard the wordless message loud and clear.

_Damn. He knows._

Kirk waved the thought away. For now, he would take what he could get, and think of a way to convince Pike that his niece was not involved with his stunt later- and for now that looked like he was off the hook.

The headmaster turned away from discussing the matter with the neighbouring members of the panel, lifting his head to address the hall when a streak of charcoal darted towards him from the edge of the theatre.

"Excuse me, sir…"

The officer delivered the PADD in his grasp to the admiral, who took it with a nod. Opening the apparently urgent correspondence with a beep, he paused stiffly, and looked up at the confused, expectant faces of the cadets.

"We've received a distress signal call from Vulcan."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk saw Commander Spock's attention sharpen- and suddenly the emotionless mask and pointed ears made sense.

"With our primary fleet engaged in the Laurentian System, I hereby order all cadets to report to Hangar One immediately. Dismissed!"

The cadets rose in a single, cacophonous cloud of heavy boots and voices and began to exit hastily, the implications hanging heavy in the air. Kirk watched his rival leave swiftly, ahead of everyone else.

Suddenly, he felt a presence at his shoulder. Jim glanced around and saw McCoy stood just behind him, the edges of his expression hinting at sympathy.

"Who was that pointy-eared bastard?" Kirk couldn't help but mutter bitterly.

"I don't know," the doctor shrugged in response, "but I like him."

Kirk was about to shove his current thoughts to the back of his mind for later examination and follow McCoy out to the hangar, when he saw a familiar figure in crimson breaking away from the masses, heading in their direction- all long legs and crisp lines of her tailored jacket. Jim took a moment to appreciate the fact that the weather was warm enough to force her to switch to the skirt version of the uniform.

"I'll, uh- I'll catch up to you, Bones," Kirk said vaguely.

Following the general direction of his gaze and catching sight of Valravn, McCoy rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Of course. Fine, I'll see you in a few minutes."

Valravn reached Kirk just as McCoy strode out of earshot. "Hey," she breathed, stopping just short of colliding with Jim's chest, a sardonic smile glittering deep in her eyes. "You know, you almost spoke like a captain up there."

Jim returned the look slyly. "Well. A captain is nothing without his crew," he replied silkily, earning a slight transference of the smile in her eyes down to her mouth, taking it as unspoken forgiveness.

"He shouldn't have said that," Valravn said suddenly, her eyes sliding over his shoulder, a glimmer of quiet anger touching her features. "He shouldn't have bought up your father out of nowhere. The commander isn't normally like that, I promise. He embraces his Vulcan heritage to the fullest extent he can, but he's far from heartless."

"You know him?" Kirk asked, surprised.

"Spock? Yeah, of course. He's my personal tutor. Haven't I mentioned him before?"

"Ah, so _that's_ where I know the name. Right. Look- don't worry about it, V, I think the council was on my side by the end of it, so," Kirk shrugged, sighing. Valravn looked mildly uncomfortable, and Kirk instantly recognised the look, and groaned softly. "Tell me you're not blaming yourself."

"I _was_ involved," Valravn pointed out, her arms wrapped around herself defensively. "I knew from the start that you were going to- ah- _subvert_ the normal parameters of the test-"

"_Subvert the normal parameters of the test_," Kirk repeated, smiling thoughtfully. "Damn, should have used that. Excellent line."

"James, can you be serious for _ten seconds_? Please. Even if all I did was keep Uhura busy for a few hours- and, well, let slip that Orion females have a tendency to talk in their sleep- I still knew what you were going to do. I should have stopped you." She bit her lip, eyes flickering. "_Should_ I have stopped you?"

Kirk gazed at her in disbelief. Glancing around them surreptitiously, he noted that the hall was rapidly draining, a third of the cadets having already left and the rest paying no attention to the two figures remaining static. Wordlessly, he slipped his fingers around her slender ones, warming her perpetually cool skin. "Valravn. Nobody could have stopped me, not even you. And that is _saying_ something." He lifted her hand to his mouth, and kissed the back of her knuckles lightly. "But _thank you_," he said softly, "for what you did." He chanced a gentle smile.

Valravn inhaled sharply, and sighed, her tension dissolving reluctantly. "You're welcome- you _idiot_."

Kirk grinned. "So. Emergency mission before official graduation. Fun. I'll see you on the _Enterprise_?"

"How do you know I'm going to be assigned to the _Enterprise_?" Valravn said, her mouth quirking upwards. "How do you know _you're_ going to be assigned to the _Enterprise_?"

"Please, we're _both_ getting assigned to the _Enterprise_," he said confidently, lifting his free hand to deftly sweep a lock of hair behind the shell of her ear with his index finger.

Valravn smothered a smile, her cheek turning into his touch imperceptibly and setting off a tiny spark of triumph in Jim's chest. "If you say so. I'll see you on board, then."

"Do I get a kiss for luck?"

"You are _shameless_."

"_Raven_! Come _on_, we have to go."

Valravn turned at the sound of Uhura's voice, and Kirk reluctantly released her fingers. With one last shadow of a smile in his direction and a snap of her long obsidian braid, Valravn darted away.

By the time he got to the door, McCoy was waiting for him impatiently, smirking regardless of how long he had been kept waiting.

"Had your moment with your girlfriend?"

Jim glowered at his friend. "She's not my-"

"Sure she's not, Jim. Come on- the admiral didn't say _immediately_ because he wanted us to drag our asses like a pair of lame pack-mules."

* * *

_May 14, 2258 – Hangar 1, Starfleet Academy; California, Earth_

"Are you nervous?"

Valravn glanced at Uhura, walking briskly at her shoulder down one of many passageways to the nearby bustling space shuttle hangar, her profile high and proud, long sleek ponytail swishing behind her like a battle standard.

"No," Valravn answered honestly, her voice smooth and light as silk, tucking a loose lock of hair back into the weave of her French braid neatly.

"It's okay to be nervous, Raven."

"I know. Thank you. It's just irrelevant advice, since I'm not nervous."

"Okay. I'm just saying that it's okay to be."

Valravn lifted an eyebrow.

"Are you nervous, Nyota?"

"No, of course not," the xenolinguist said with an airy laugh, the delicate fan of her mascara-enhanced lashes casting long shadows across her cheekbones under the bright overhead lights lining the passage. "This is what we've been working for, it's what we're going to be doing in a few month's time. Of course I'm not nervous. That would be- what would you say? Counterintuitive?"

Valravn looked away, unimpressed by the quality of the lie, and soundlessly slipped her hand into Uhura's in friendship and solidarity. Her fingers felt too warm against Valravn's, the creases of her palm slightly damp with salt, and Uhura was quick to grip her hand in return.

"Something along those lines, yes."

The moment they entered the hangar, however, their hands parted in a mutual display of professionalism. There was something about stepping onto the floor of the bustling spaceport that was enough to make each and every cadet forcibly aware that they were, at least for the interim, no longer in training. The hangar was comprised of a vast floor space of cold steel panels that reflected the world surrounding it like still water, high barrelled pitch-black ceilings studded with glaring white beacons, and immaculate rows of sharply sculpted, ice-white space shuttles walled with green glass, capacity of a hundred and fifty each, hydraulics hissing as they prepared for launch. What looked like chaos to a civilian's eyes was synchronised efficiency to Starfleet; Uhura and Valravn followed the current to the commander bearing their class number on a translucent PADD, and waited impatiently for the rest of their group to fill the hollow space.

The moment Gaila slid into place in front of them, vibrating with excitement, the statuesque woman dressed in charcoal before them began.

"I will call out your last name, followed the starship you have been assigned to," she said without preamble, her strong voice rising sharply above the clatter of machinery and urgent orders filling the hangar. "Report to one of the transfer shuttles assigned to your ship immediately after the final name has been called. You will be directed to your specialism's area of general assembly for uniforms and assignment once aboard, unless given further instruction upon boarding your shuttle, for your individual assignment." She lifted a new, bulkier data PADD. "Aiex, U.S.S. _Odyssey. _Arron, U.S.S. _Hood_. Bedford, U.S.S. _Defiant_. D'Nel, U.S.S _Endeavour_. Faulkner…"

Valravn waited, pulse rising in burning anticipation, quietly cursing that her surname had to start with a letter tucked at the far end of the Latinised alphabet.

"Uhura, U.S.S. _Farragut_."

Faster than should have been biochemically possible, given the normal firing speed of an average Human's neural synapses, Valravn switched the target of her silent cursing to Commander Spock's paranoia about showing favouritism towards Uhura. Her friend belonged on the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, and everyone at Starfleet would know it at a glance at her credentials. Leaving her off the ship, as he so patently had, made it _more_ obvious that there was some kind of meaningful emotional attachment between them, not _less_.

"Winter, U.S.S. _Enterprise_."

Her attention cut out, and her heart skipped a beat.

_Enterprise_.

U.S.S. _Enterprise_, NCC-1701.

Valravn remembered the evening she had first seen that starship, four years ago, on a single night in Iowa, barely a week before she had begun her first year at Starfleet Academy.

She remembered the vast skeletal frame- smoothly curving beams of freshly forged titanium-alloy steel, scientifically precise in their cast, wrought into a design created for optimum performance- floodlit underneath the cold, curving frozen midnight skies, silhouetted darkly against the raw space beyond. She remembered the tiny bursts of orange and flame-blue sparks of industrial welding torches cascading down the colossal construct, setting the steel aflame briefly. She remembered seeing a momentary flash of herself reflected in that starship- the fragile fledgling, the future flagship of Starfleet's gleaming armada; frigid, new, untested, but stubbornly rising from the earth, reaching up towards the stars.

The memory is so sharp that Valravn was almost surprised when she exhaled, and the breath finally released from her lungs didn't emerge in a crystallised plume of white frost against the air.

The _Enterprise._ She had gotten the _Enterprise_.

Kirk was right- _again_.

Damn him.

The group broke up efficiently as the commander delivered the customary_ welcome to Starfleet_ and wished them _Godspeed_. Gaila spun on her heel, gracing her friends with a quivering smile- she was assigned to the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, naturally; she helped to encode the _Kobayashi Maru_ this year, after all- and the moment she had skittered away with the rest of their peers, Valravn turned to the quietly seething Uhura.

"Go and talk to him," she urged quietly, her words deliberately ambiguous to hide the truth from anyone who overheard. "I'll see you on board."

Uhura gave a grim smile and stormed away, shoulders braced furiously. Valravn decided to leave the matter in her capable hands and swept towards the closest _Enterprise_ shuttle, her heart pounding a tattoo of victory inside her.

Valravn was unspeakably frustrated when her fluid gait was cut short by the commander registering each cadet ascending the shallow ramp to the shuttle, who made her pause just as she was about to duck through the open hatch.

"One moment, please."

Standing with admirable patience as he scanned her identification, Valravn raised an eyebrow in icy query.

"Winter, Valravn S. I'll need to speak with you once we take off. Given your assignment, you'll need a PADD."

Confused by the order, but too low on patience to question the commander further on the matter- and certainly not with a growing queue at her back- she nodded with terse compliance and swiftly climbed aboard the small spacecraft.

* * *

"He didn't call my name."

The words were uttered with quiet fury, demanding explanation. Kirk felt a surge of adrenaline as he strode after the squat commander, heated but determinedly calm in his pursuit, McCoy at his back out of camaraderie as their fellows scattered.

"Commander! Sir, you didn't call my name," he said piercingly. "Kirk, James T."

The commander, preoccupied by the information he was rapidly entering into the nearby terminal, didn't look at Kirk as he responded. "Kirk, you're on academic suspension. That means you're grounded until the academy board rules."

Jim watched him leave, numbly.

A year ago, during a particularly violent sparring session when he had provoked Valravn a few too many times, she had smoothly and effortlessly blocked one of his more powerful blows, thrown his arm aside and delivered a debilitating punch to his abdomen. He couldn't even cry out in shock at how fast she had moved; the precise strike forced all air from his lungs and paralysed his diaphragm, leaving him dropping to the floor in pure shock. When the black mist finally lifted from his vision, he found Valravn bent over him- panicked as she pressed her palm to his sternum to restore his breathing, apologising desperately, begging him to say something.

Kirk felt almost exactly the same as he had at that moment- shocked breathless, unable to react- except here, there was no hugging Valravn warmly and apologising in return.

"Jim- the board will rule in your favour," he heard McCoy say encouragingly from behind him. "You already had them on the ropes back there. The ruling- that's just a formality at this point. It's just the regulations getting in the way, you know how it is." Kirk nodded, swallowing, his chest constricting with hot, prickling frustration. "Look, Jim- I gotta go," the doctor said, uncomfortable, sounding almost regretful.

Kirk turned and forced a small half-smile. "Yeah, yeah, you go," he said, gripping his hand tightly in farewell. With sincerity, he added, "Be safe."

McCoy nodded, and walked away reluctantly, emotionally torn as he joined the other flash-promoted cadets breaking away to leave Earth's atmosphere for their first impromptu mission. Jim stood static in the midst of the storm of motion, alone and hollow, the desolation setting in as he felt everything he had ever worked for gently slipping away from underneath him.

McCoy got approximately fifteen feet away before exasperation- and a rather reckless idea- struck him simultaneously.

Leonard McCoy was not one to put _reason_ before _honour_. Regulations be damned; he was doing what his gut told him was _right_.

"_Damn it_," he muttered under his breath, turning back before he could change his mind. Grabbing his friend's arm in an iron grip, he hauled a bemused Kirk away. "Keep your mouth shut and come with me."

There was no time to waste; the shuttles would be leaving shortly, but fortunately McCoy knew the exact section of the hangar he was looking for- carefully sectioned off from the less tightly controlled and more vital cargo to be shipped aboard the vessels waiting for their hastily assembled crews. All he needed was a hypospray and one of the tiny, refrigerated cartridges of any variation of a specific solution. He could do that, at the very least- medical professionals were made to operate under high pressure and heavy time constraints, after all.

A shuttle was leaving for the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, and both he and Kirk were going to be on it.

* * *

_May 14, 2258 – Transport Shuttle C of the U.S.S. _Enterprise

The PADD they had given her was sleek and beautiful, like a sheet of glass- touch sensitive at her fingertips, luminescent, and secured at one side with a lightweight band of stainless steel installed with manual buttons and dials. Valravn still had no idea why it had been given to her, only that she it was synchronised with the location she was to report to as soon as she arrived, and that she must do so post-haste.

As if a Red Alert situation didn't call for post-haste from all crew members already.

They had long since soared above the steely grey landscape of San Francisco, the water of the river as overcast as the skies it reflected, and reached beyond stratospheric levels, leaving the highest arc of the thermosphere and emerging into open space. Moving back to the only free seat left aboard while the craft was in flight was not exactly the easiest action in the world, and certainly not when she had one hand occupied, but Valravn managed the trek with admirable grace.

She drew up short, however, when she heard a familiar voice to her right.

"_I may throw up on you_," it ground out with a healthy dash of hatred to whoever was sitting next to him.

"James?"

Kirk looked up. He was dangerously pale, his flesh glistening with a sheen of sweat, blue eyes glazed over and both arms crossed over his chest tightly, as though supressing convulsions of pain. Valravn was quietly terrified by his state, her eyes swinging accusingly to the doctor sat next to him, staring out of the window obliviously.

"_McCoy_." Gaining no response, Valravn allowed her tone to hiss low and murderous. "_Leonard._"

McCoy started and turned towards her, looking suitably frightened when he met her gaze.

"What the hell _happened_?" She demanded, her free hand pressing to Kirk's shaking shoulder. Her stomach tightened when she heard him groan softly, coughing out a breath.

Leaning forwards across Jim, McCoy murmured furtively, "He's suspended from duty because the damn tribunal was interrupted. Since they didn't rule, he's supposed to stay planet-side, but I couldn't just leave him standing there, lookin' all pathetic- so I gave him a jab. Just a mud flea viral vaccine to give him the symptoms, that's all, so I could talk them into letting me decide on treatment as his attending physician- which just happens to be him coming with me on the _Enterprise_."

"Reaction from a vaccine are _not_ normally this dramatic." Valravn said coldly, never diverted for a second from her primary concern.

"Bad reaction, I guess- nothing serious. It was just to get him aboard, Raven."

"I _am_ here, you know," Kirk rasped out indignantly.

Valravn's fingers slid from his shoulder to the nape of his neck placating, gripping gently and dipping underneath his collar, causing him to sigh with relief at the cool sensation, all the while maintaining her unstable balance on the shuttle's sloping floor. "Still. I have to admit- using the _attending physician_ loophole was deliciously sneaky of you," she addressed McCoy with a measure of gratitude. The doctor preened slightly, dusting off his sleeves casually. "Then again, I suppose you owe him, after he saved your ass during the Vesper incident."

McCoy looked horrified. "You _know _about that?!"

Even through his fever and throbbing headache, Jim managed a giggle.

The shuttle suddenly jolted suddenly- not particularly harshly, but the loss of the level gliding motion it had been maintaining until then was enough to throw off Valravn's centre of balance entirely. Kirk's hand shot up to grip her elbow, rescuing her almost upon instinct, though he was really in no fit state to do more than breathe at present.

"Just- look, you two- you've got to see this," McCoy said impatiently, turning back to the window, "_L__ook_."

Curious, Valravn gripped the back of Kirk's seat and leaned forwards to see out of the small pane of transparent aluminium, frosted around the edges from the abrupt departure from Earth's atmosphere.

The sight beyond took her breath away.

"_James_…"

The wonder in her voice made Kirk follow her gaze.

Starbase 1 was suspended in the fathomless depths of darkness of raw space; an array of five massive and carefully spaced arms, the spokes of a ring encircling a gigantic orb of steel that served as the space station and contained a living city in orbit, etched with tracks of delicate luminous blue. The flat, intricate disks of the docks and repair stations attached to each long arm reflected the glare of the sun, swarming with activity as each of the ships docked were prepared for launch. And there, amongst them- streamlined and perfect- was the _Enterprise_.

The starship was nothing short of a work of art to Kirk's eyes: sculpted and sharp and polished to a pearlescent gloss, making him almost wish he could run his fingertips along her illuminated hull, trace over the freshly painted identity displayed across the gleaming, untouched metal.

"_Beautiful._"

The girl next to him had summarised his thoughts precisely.

Looking across at her, hovering a mere inch away, Kirk was hit by the sudden, fever-dream notion that Valravn and the _Enterprise_ were honestly not so different, at least aesthetically. Both were seemingly cold, efficient, burnished to a shine in the cool sunlight, as graceful as a young bird in mid-flight; ready for battle, yet untainted by it- virginal, radiant, voyagers designed to discover and protect, strong and uncertain at the same time.

And _beautiful_. Utterly… _beautiful._

Valravn suddenly looked at him. Jim was met with crystal eyes, the clear pure colour of arctic ice, framed by long, soft ebony lashes that clashed with the vivid colour spectacularly.

If he hadn't been feeling so spectacularly nauseous, Kirk might have closed the distance between them, and kissed her.


	7. Chapter VII: Precipice

_**A/N: **If this chapter wasn't canon, I would call it filler. Gods, I hated writing this one. So much exposition._

_Fun fact, though: I've hidden an encoded spoiler somewhere in this chapter about my future plans for this story. It's_ extremely_ subtle, but the first to get it- which part of the text it is, what it is, and what it means- I'll take any prompt you give me and incorporate it into the story somewhere. I'll give you a clue: it is in the third section, it is something Valravn says (though, in universe, it is actually just a coincidence) and has some numbers that may need decoding. By the way: take the two ones as eleven._

_So, good luck! And, as always- I hope you enjoy. At least, more than I did writing this._

* * *

Chapter VII  
_Precipice_

_May 14, 2258 – U.S.S. _Enterprise

Valravn smoothed out her skirt, and examined her reflection.

She had redone her hair completely- unravelled each lock and restarted her braid meticulously, the spun-obsidian strands swept away from her face, laced into the simple plait resting over the curve of her spine. Her uniform clung to her, outlining her form mercilessly, the collar of the dress dipping, just slightly, to show the pliable black fabric of the sleeveless undershirt. The fabric was the crimson red of the operations division, the colour of the flesh of a summer cherry, a suitable thickness without being oppressive. She had kept her custom boots, with the wedge heel that gave her a subtle two inches of additional height. The Starfleet insignia was displayed above her left breast- a large silver pin in the shape of a curved delta, a tiny streaked five-pointed star contained within it- and, perhaps most importantly, a single thick band of silver was embroidered into each cuff of her taut full-length sleeves, encircling both wrists.

_Voice key recognised. Welcome to the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, Lieutenant Valravn S. Winter_, the computer had chimed her when the door had slid aside, allowing her to enter the room she had been directed to by her PADD. _You have been appointed as chief of security aboard this vessel, with the additional distinction of hostile operations specialist and co-tactical officer. Report to the bridge as soon as possible._

Valravn's reflection hid a smile, a gleam of fluid silver spilling from her hand. Fingering the sheet of small interlocking scales of the combat mask, she slipped it into her pocket and picked up her PADD, resting on the storage tower beside the body-length mirror. Her quarters were small, but far superior to her room at the academy- she was granted the luxury of a queen-sized bed, a large wardrobe and a private bathroom attached, as a bridge officer.

That was still a strange thought- she was a bridge officer; they had made her a _bridge officer_.

With that stark reminder of her looming responsibilities, Valravn drew in a cleansing breath, and exited her quarters.

The map on her PADD directed her on the shortest route to the bridge, past various crew members skittering to their posts, and into a nearby turbo elevator. The cylindrical capsule of the lift swooped upwards, the _Enterprise_ humming around her with pure energy- chemical, electrical, mechanical, humanoid- fused together and breathing life into the vessel. Valravn closed her eyes briefly, drawing the aura in, letting it steady her. It was another reminder of something that she had begun to appreciate at only fourteen, upon her entry into Starfleet Academy: she was nothing, truly, in the scale of the universe- and here, was just another proverbial cog in this colossal machine- an important cog, but a cog nonetheless- a faint flicker of light amongst the millions upon millions of stars in the galaxy. The thought was oddly reassuring.

The elevator slid open, and Valravn stepped out.

The bridge was immaculate, sparkling and unused. The floor was a smooth surface of varnished volcanic-red, lights studded around the juncture where the walls met the ceiling; large translucent panels arranged around the bridge were digitally etched with statistics in varying tones of deep, luminous sapphire blue; each individual workstation was a shallow crescent of white, installed with complex instrumentation and dials and glassy touch screens, each new fixture slotted together perfectly. Valravn swept her gaze around the circular chamber. Every seat on the bridge was burgundy leather, she noticed- except for one, placed on a platform overlooking the navigation terminal, directly in front of the wide viewing screen.

The command chair was high-backed, a sculpted frame of angular white, upholstered in supple black leather.

Valravn spared it a glance before making her way to her station, taking her seat and signing in; her console faced the viewing screen, looking out into open space, just slightly below and to the left of the navigation terminal. Synchronising her PADD to her station and keying in the essential access codes, she looked over the status report submitted to her by her subordinate officers- she actually had _subordinates_; now that was an insane thought- and, as per protocol, issued the order for her various teams to manually verify the digital manifesto of those aboard and ensure all officers were accounted for. As an afterthought, Valravn added a cool but sincere message wishing them all luck.

Tucking her PADD away underneath her desktop, she glanced up from her screen and noticed the chief navigation officer staring at her.

The young man- both his face and form overwhelminglyboyish, truthfully, but Valravn was neither in a position or inclined to be disparaging when it came to age- blushed deeply at being caught staring. He looked as though he was in his late teens, wiry and pale, dressed in command gold, with a cap of quirky dark-brass curls.

"Let me guess," she said lightly, "we were both thinking the same thing." He met her eyes again, nervously, and Valravn propped her elbow against her desk, resting her jaw on the heel of her hand and smirking. "_I thought I was going to be the young one on the bridge._"

He grinned in reply, the colour in his face diffusing as he gave a little laugh.

"It is a bit of a relief," he admitted shyly, his accent thick and lilting- Russian, Valravn gauged, but then she was hardly an expert on the nuances of Terran accents. He paused for a moment, before rising slightly from his seat, bravely holding out his hand for her to shake. "Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov, chief navigation officer and co-tactical. Star City Conservatory and Terra Academy of Astrophysics and Mathematics, Moscow. Seventeen," he added with a twinkling of his pale eyes.

"Lieutenant Valravn Scarlett Winter- or Raven, if you prefer," Valravn replied, hovering in her own seat and slipping her hand into his, the charm on her hair cuff clinking against her ribs. "Security chief, hostile operations specialist and co-tactical. Starfleet Academy, San Francisco. Eighteen."

"You are from the academy?" Chekov said in surprise, releasing her hand. Valravn dropped back into her seat, crossing her legs, and the navigation chief echoed her movement. "Ah- I mean, sorry, I didn't mean- well, I know that some students travel to study at Starfleet Academy, but with your age, and that accent- you are English, yes? I would have thought you would have attended the Cambridge Society."

"I did study there for a while," Valravn confessed, not mentioning that it had been at the ridiculously young age of nine, as Chekov was clearly a child prodigy himself and no doubt understood, without needing to her to run through tedious clarification. "But I moved to California to live with a relative not long after I completed my honorary there. So the academy it was. But- Moscow." She smiled faintly. "I passed through there on a road trip with a friend last summer. I even persuaded him to come with me and visit that famous music theatre."

"The Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko? It was always my favourite," Chekov agreed cheerfully. "Fantastic acoustics."

At that moment, Valravn's terminal chirped with an incoming message- glancing over her shoulder, she saw that it was one requesting her to review the weaponry status, and authorise it before launch. "Ah, duty calls. Nice to meet you, Chekov," she added, with warmth.

"And you, Raven," he replied brightly, swivelling back to his own station. Valravn smiled to herself, wondering if she had made her first friend on the bridge.

Minutes later, Valravn's personal tutor stepped aboard- the standard readout in hand, dressed in the bright blue shirt of the science division, wrists bearing the thick, double silver bands that marked him as at commander rank. Valravn cut Spock a glance out of the corner of her eyes, still raw over what he had said to Kirk during the tribunal; whatever Spock might claim, Valravn saw the comment about George Kirk as unnecessarily vindictive- something that even Vulcans were perfectly capable of being, even if hey prided themselves on control over emotions. Still, she said nothing and sent the order to secure all exterior hatches in preparation for launch. She had yet to hit a single snag, and Valravn caressed her console with her fingertips, silently thanking the _Enterprise_ for being the worthy new flagship that Starfleet had lauded her as.

"Mr Spock," a familiar voice sounded from across the bridge.

"Captain. Engineering reports ready for launch."

"Thank you," Captain Christopher Pike said, walking from the hallway entrance towards his command seat. For Valravn, it was her first time seeing her uncle in official Starfleet uniform, aside from the ceremonial slate-grey, and tutor's ink-black; his shirt was gold, of course, and he wore it well. Bright silver outlined his wrists- two the same thickness as the single stripe on Valravn's own, encircling a third narrower one. "Ladies and gentleman, the maiden voyage of our new flagship deserves more pomp and circumstance than we can afford today," he addressed the entire bridge. His eyes, however, fell directly on his niece, rotated in her chair to watch him like the other officers. Pike allowed the professional mask of a captain to slip just long enough to give Valravn a minute, yet infinitely proud, smile. Valravn returned it, the hardness in her mouth softening in acknowledgement. "Her christening will just have to be our reward for her safe return. Carry on."

Pike took his seat and pressed a button on the arm of the command chair, a hollow digital whine sounding. "All decks, this is Captain Pike, prepare for immediate departure." He released the key, and looked towards the helmsman. "Helm- thrusters."

Valravn swallowed the flutter of excitement in her chest, running through her notifications as a distraction.

"Moorings retracted, Captain," the helmsman reported. "Dock control reports ready. Thrusters fired." An echoing slam supported this statement. "Separating from space dock."

Even from the bridge, Valravn could feel the nacelles roaring to life and purring a low, potent drone from far behind her, driving the vessel forwards. The pattern of the stars shifted as the _Enterprise_ left its dock, the other ships of the fleet deployed to Vulcan drifting to view of the screen, floating at an incline in the abyss.

"The fleet has cleared space dock, Captain. All ships ready for warp."

"Set course for Vulcan."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Course laid in."

"Maximum warp," Pike commanded, swivelling to face forwards. "Punch it."

Valravn drew in a breath, the fingers of her left hand tightening on the hem of her skirt before she realised what she was doing, and smoothed the crease out, embarrassed by her nerves.

This was it.

The helmsman wrapped his fingers around a brightly polished chrome lever, and slowly pushed forwards. The other ships of the fleet disappeared around them in streaks of blue light, each with a cracking sound like a gunshot. The _Enterprise_ gave a powerful whine.

And nothing happened. The galaxy remained stationary around them.

The helmsman paused, perplexed, holding the lever at its highest position for a long moment, before finally releasing the instrument with a soft hiss. An unspoken confusion filled the air as the whir of the warp drive powered down, and died away.

"Lieutenant," Pike said, quietly unimpressed by the spectacular failure to reach warp, "where is Helmsman McKenna?"

"He has lungworm, sir. He couldn't report to his post," the young man replied as he hastily checked his instrumentation for any fatal flaws he had missed in his preparation for launch. Valravn looked at him properly for the first time- he was in his early twenties, perhaps a year or two older, with jet-black hair, Asian features and an attractive angular slant to his dark eyes. He turned towards Pike respectfully. "I'm Hikaru Sulu."

"And you are a pilot, right?" Pike asked.

Sulu smiled uncertainly. "Very much so, sir," he assured the captain, spinning back towards his terminal and scanning the helm controls with increasing concern. "I'm, uh- I'm not quite sure what's wrong here-"

"Is the parking brake on?"

"Uh, no," Sulu laughed slightly. "I'll figure it out, I'm just-"

"Have you disengaged the external inertial dampener?" Spock suddenly spoke up from the science station, his voice cool and sharp.

There was a moment of tense silence that confirmed the query completely.

Valravn closed her eyes, the motion serving as her only external reaction. It was an amateur mistake- but a minor one, and one that could have happened to any young lieutenant; she would have been more concerned if the _internal_ inertial dampener was turned _off_, she reasoned to herself, seeing as it would kill them all instantly if they went into warp without it.

Sulu keyed something in with a tense, suitably abashed jab of his finger and straightened. "Ready for warp, sir," he said stiffly, looking anywhere by the command chair.

"The external inertial dampener. That's… the parking brake," Pike said dryly, and Valravn watched him give a wry smile, willing to see the embarrassment as suitable reprimand and otherwise let the incident rest. "Let's punch it."

Finally- after the harmless false start, and in the wake of the rest of the fleet- the darkness warped before them, the stars streaked, and the U.S.S. _Enterprise _shot through the empty space.

* * *

"Where are we?" Kirk slurred out, redressed from his cadet uniform into nondescript black.

"Medical bay," McCoy informed him, hauling him out of the elevator and towards the nearest bed.

"This wasn't worth it," Kirk whimpered, having regained most of his strength but still stumbling, his body shuddering in protest to the weakened strains of the vaccine. The doctor simply rolled his eyes, suspecting that Jim was just being dramatic; if he could endure combat sessions with Valravn Winter, then in McCoy's opinion, he could push through the admitted unpleasantness of an adverse reaction to the injection.

"A little suffering is good for the soul," he said tersely. "Now don't whine. Your girlfriend hates that."

"For the last time, Bones, V is _not_ my girlfriend. _Unfortunately_," Kirk added in an undertone that McCoy pretended not to hear. "Hey, my mouth is itchy, is that normal?"

McCoy deposited him on the nearest bed unceremoniously. "Well, the symptoms won't last long," he informed him, extracting the silver hypospray from the bag slung over his shoulder and filling it with a clear fluid, the delivery mechanism drawing it up automatically the moment he pierced the capsule. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative."

Kirk groaned, tense with the shivers wracking his body. "I wish I didn't know you."

"Don't be such an infant," McCoy retorted exasperatedly.

"You know, I'm grateful for this and everything- really, I am- but you could really learn from Valravn, Bones," Kirk ground out, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them sharply in an attempt to rid himself of the blindness in his left eye. "At least she kissed my cheek that night we-"

McCoy jabbed the needle into the flesh of Kirk's neck. His patient gave a strangled cry of protest at the fresh sting of pain, shaking his head. "_Augh_! How long is it supposed t-"

At that exact moment, Kirk's eyes fluttered shut and he collapsed on the bed, leaving McCoy stood feeling annoyed, relieved, and wondering about the origins of this _kiss on the cheek_.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, drawing the curtain around the bed with a rasp of metal rings and sterile sheet canvas.

* * *

"Engines at maximum warp, Captain," Sulu reported. The viewing screen was filled with a constant tunnel of flickering light, like water, space twisting around the starship. Valravn glanced up at it periodically as she ran through the usual procedure. Aside from a moderately exasperating quantity of unauthorised access alarms throughout the ship- all a result of its new crew orientated itself- everything was functioning normally.

"Thank you, Mr Sulu. Mr Spock," Pike turned to his left. "See that all departments receive full details of the Vulcan transmission so that they can organise effectively. Let's give them a condensed version first." Valravn felt his gaze skim over her for a moment from out of the corner of his eye. "It'll have more impact coming from tactical. Lieutenant Winter, and- what's the name of that Russian whiz kid? Chanko? Cherpov?"

"Ensign Chekov, sir," Valravn's fellow co-tactical officer spoke up from Valravn's left as she spun her chair around to face her captain. "Pavel Andreievich."

"Right- Chekov," Pike acknowledged with a nod. "You are both familiar with the Vulcan transmission, I'm assuming?"

"Yes, Captain," Valravn affirmed, supplemented by Chekov's nod.

"Then neither of you have no objections to providing a joint verbal summary for the crew?"

Chekov glanced at Valravn for her opinion, and she nodded in agreement, unsmiling but amiable. "Yes sir, happy to," he answered for them both.

Valravn turned back to her console and dialled in a few keys. "Winter, Valravn S. Lieutenant, authorisation code one-one-eight-alpha-november."

"_Access granted,_" the computer replied promptly to her clear intonation. "_Lieutenant Winter, you are recognised._"

As Valravn opened up the on-board communications system, setting up a ship-wide broadcast feed to be split onscreen with the navigation terminal to her left, Chekov seemed to be struggling against the voice recognition system. "Ensign authorisation code," he repeated insistently, pronouncing the letters blended by his accent with deliberate care. "Nine-nine-victor-victor-two." He sighed as his terminal finally complied, and Valravn hid a smile. "Activate intraship communications, all channels."

Across the _Enterprise_, the visages of the two young tactical officers appeared on almost every active monitor, the screen split between their individual console feeds; in every corner of the vessel, regardless of department- in the roaring bowels of engineering, on the weapons deck surrounded by incomprehensible concentrated destructive power, in the temporary tranquillity of the medical bay- technicians and supervisors paused to listen to the address.

"_Your attention please,_" Valravn began, the dark sharp young woman and her crisply professional, crystalline tone instantly capturing the notice of those she addressed. "_This is Lieutenant Valravn Winter and Ensign Pavel Chekov speaking to you from the bridge. The captain has requested that we brief you on the details of our impending rescue mission to the planet Vulcan._"

The lieutenant paused briefly, allowing those busy with their duties to pause and gather around the closest monitor, before continuing. "_At twenty-two hundred hours GMT, long-range sensors detected an energy surge of stellar proportions in the Vulcan quadrant- an anomaly that has been described by observers as a 'lightning storm in space'. Soon after, Starfleet received a distress signal from the Vulcan High Command, reporting that the planet was exhibiting unprecedented seismic activity._"

Valravn halted, and the ensign took over from her. "_The amount of movement in the planetary crust has been declared as indicative of immense tectonic shifts, possibly triggering massive earthquakes and volcanic activity. Our mission is to assess the condition of Vulcan and assist in evacuations if necessary. We should be arriving at Vulcan within three minutes. Thank you for your time._"

* * *

Emerging from the crushing depths of sedated sleep, Jim could hear Valravn's voice.

While Kirk considered it to be, by far, one of the best things in the galaxy to wake up to, it left him feeling confused underneath the fading effect of the tranquilliser, his thought processes still as numb and slow-moving as his limbs. Valravn couldn't be in the medical bay. Kirk knew that she was aboard, but she would have to be at her station- and though she did have basic medical training, she was by no means a qualified doctor, so she couldn't be here unless she was injured- and Kirk highly doubted that.

But he knew her voice. That _was_ Valravn's voice.

"… _speaking to you from the bridge. The captain has requested that we brief you on the details…"_

A broadcast from the bridge. There it was- Valravn had been made a bridge officer, and had been given the task of briefing the crew on their mission. Even through the throbbing pain re-entering his body, Kirk grinned victoriously, his eyes still closed against the brightness of the room, soaking in the sound of her voice as though it was liquid morphine.

"… _twenty-two hundred hours GMT, long-range sensors detected an energy surge of stellar proportions…_"

Jim's smile grew as he wondered, idly, if some of the older officers were staring at the striking young apparition on the monitors, questioning how she had achieved such a prestigious position at such an age. _Hard work and being damn dedicated to her work, _that's_ how, _Kirk mentally replied, sighing and shifting, consciousness trickling back in.

"… _by observers as a 'lightning storm in space'. Soon after, Starfleet received a distress signal from the Vulcan High Command, reporting…_"

Kirk paused, his mind whirring back to life. _Lightning storm in space._ He could swear he had heard that phrase somewhere before.

"… _exhibiting unprecedented seismic activity._"

It was such a bizarre anomaly- an electrical storm in outer space, and the sudden appearance of such a vast amount of energy without an apparent cause- and how this was linked with the shifting of Vulcan's planetary structure was beyond him, although perhaps it was just Starfleet HQ hoping that it was merely a transitory event-

A new voice had taken over, a thick Russian accent Kirk didn't recognise. "_…_ _movement in the planetary crust has been declared as indicative of immense tectonic shifts…_"

Kirk couldn't think. Willing the last dregs of sedative out of his brain, he forced himself to _think_.

"… _of Vulcan and assist in evacuations if necessary. We should be arriving…_"

His memory sparked, and the realisation hit him with the force of a sucker-punch. His eyes snapped open.

There was one place he had heard that phrase before, though Kirk wished it was otherwise.

"…_three minutes. Thank you for your time._"

Kirk sat up entirely too fast, jolting and shaking, but it didn't matter. He had to tell them- he had to warn them. It was the same as before, it was happening all over again, they were stepping directly into the path of something that they simply weren't equipped for, it was going to happen again and he could _not_ allow that-

"_Lightning storm_-!"

Oblivious to his friend's revelation, or else passing it off as mild delirium, McCoy approached, now dressed in an electric blue shirt bearing the dual silver rank strikes- one thick, one thin- of lieutenant commander. "Ah, Jim, you're awake. How are you feeling- _good god, man_!"

"What- _argh!_"

Kirk stared down at his hands in horror. They had swollen to thrice their size. He was torn between fascination and abject disgust.

"What the hell is this?!"

"A reaction to the vaccine, damn it!" McCoy shouted his reply as he scrambled for the strongest antihistamine he could lay his hands on. "Nurse Chapel! I need fifty ccs of cortisone!"

Jim, meanwhile, was preoccupied with more pressing matters. Throwing himself out of bed, Kirk hurtled towards the closest terminal, desperately needing to confirm his theory. Fumbling with the touch-screen interface, ignoring his friend, who had returned and was scanning his head urgently, Kirk bought up the previous transmission, skipping forwards furiously.

"… _Vulcan quadrant- an anomaly that has been described by observers as a 'lightning storm in space',_" Valravn's voice repeated, her voice and annunciation mercifully clear.

"Bones!" Kirk turned to the alarmed doctor. "_We've gotta stop the ship_!"

* * *

On the bridge, Valravn rolled her eyes at yet another unauthorised access alert at a terminal near the medical bay- sent up to her by one of her subordinates who seemed to misunderstand the theory of _delegation_. Adding it resignedly to the main log and having the user's identity recorded for later examination, along with approximately two hundred others, Valravn returned to the far more urgent task of coordinating the data from the ship's security sensors into her launch report.

* * *

"Jim! I'm not kidding! _You need to keep your heart rate down_!"

McCoy sprinted out of the elevator and after his wayward patient, terrified underneath his medical expert demeanour of the consequences that the reaction to the vaccine could have upon said individual, rummaging through the kit balanced in his arms for the cortisone. Kirk could have cared less at that moment; he was finally piecing it all together, and it was making a disturbing amount of sense. An unexplained anomaly in otherwise stationary space- the seismic activity on Vulcan- and the last piece, the destruction of a Klingon armada shortly before the distress call. It was pure luck that he had heard that last fragment of information, and simply good fortune that Valravn was so close friends with Uhura. Chances were, from what she had told him in the past about Uhura's abilities, the communications cadet would be aboard the _Enterprise_- which meant that she could confirm his suspicions and validate his theory.

He was reckless, but not reckless enough to charge onto the bridge without solid proof.

Kirk stopped at the nearest terminal, the speed with which he had been moving almost scrambling his thought processes entirely. "Computer, locate crew member Uhura!"

"_Cadet Kirk, you are not authorised-_"

Jim cursed colourfully at the electronic voice. "Register urgency of tone and adjust security parameters accordingly!"

"_Voice tone registered and recorded for later assessment. Temporary access granted._"

"Fantastic, _now locate crew member Uhura_!"

"I haven't seen a reaction this severe since med school," McCoy muttered, filling his hypospray with fingers that, if they had been a few years less experienced, might have been shaking. Before he could so much as think about administering the dose, Kirk was muttering the deck number the computer had provided him with and was bolting away.

"We're flying into a trap-!"

"Damn it, Jim!" The exasperated doctor caught up to the frenzied cadet and grabbed the back of his black shirt. "_Stand still_!"

He managed to capture Kirk just long enough to jab him with the hypospray, eliciting yet another frustrated yelp of pain.

"_Stop it_!" Kirk yelled, exasperated, before he turned and all but tore his way to a familiar figure sat at one of the many communications consoles, a long skein of straight black hair tied up high behind her head, wearing a sleeveless blood-red dress emblazoned with the Starfleet insignia.

"_Uhura_!"

If the situation wasn't so utterly serious, Uhura's expression of sheer shock might have made Kirk laugh. She stood, almost tripping, facing him with a bend of confusion and sheer frustration.

"Kirk- what are you _doing_-"

"Uhura, that transmission from the Klingon prison planet, what _exactly _did it say-"

"Oh my _god_, what's wrong with your hands?!"

"Look, it doesn't-" Jim shook his head desperately, McCoy stood behind him and scanning him once more. "Who was responsible for the attack-"

"_What?_"

"- and was the ship _Ro'u'an_?"

Finally appearing to have registered and begun to react to his uncharacteristic urgency, Uhura gazed back, perplexed, eyes narrowed. "Was the ship _what_?"

Kirk attempted duplicating the word for her again, before realising that his speech was suddenly and increasingly garbled. "Ro- _wha's happe'ing to my mou'_?" He directed at McCoy over his shoulder.

McCoy grimaced. "You got numb tongue?"

"_Num' ton'?!_" Kirk echoed, irate and incredulous.

"I can fix that!" McCoy promised hastily, delving back into his kit.

"Was the ship what?" Uhura repeated her question, impatient but attentive.

"_Romu'an._"

"I-" Her gaze lowered and she watched his mouth carefully, how he was forming the words, listening by motion rather than by sound. "Wait- _Romulan_?" She ventured.

"Yeah!"

Uhura sharpened, her dark irises sparking with recognition. "Yes!"

"_Yes_!" Kirk shouted, before he was stabbed in the neck yet again by McCoy's hypospray needle. "_Argh- god damn it!_"

* * *

Next to her skill in combat, Valravn had always been notorious for her penchant for speed. Her fellow students had soon learned to know better than to interrupt her in the midst of a complex calculation; more often than not, her intellectual inertia meant that any disruption left her frustrated and terse for hours afterwards. In simulations, high velocities meant nothing to her; in reality, on her hoverbike, it meant even less. But, perhaps most crucially, many of her regular opponents in physical training class had complained that fighting her was like trying to battle your own shadow: regardless of the attack you threw, she mirrored it with a perfectly designed defence, and struck back before anyone could so much as register what she had done. Valravn took pride in her carefully refined technique; she understood battle, and knew that her diminutive height, coupled with a lack of muscle mass, was a significant weakness. So she made her strikes blindingly fast, with flawless precision to cause the maximum damage and disarm her enemy before they had a chance to gain the upper hand- and therefore, she won.

This time was no exception.

She heard the _whoosh_ of the door, the shout and three sets of footsteps pounding the glossy floors of the hallway before anyone else. In the space of a heartbeat, she was stood directly between the intruder and her captain, her forearm horizontal over her chest and the outside of it slamming into theirs like an iron bar, blocking them from advancing, elbow bent and poised to throw them backwards with a simple, strategic extension of her arm.

The safety of every officer on the bridge was part of her job description.

However, in the split second that followed, she didn't follow through with the debilitating move she had been primed to flow into, and for one reason alone: all at once, she registered black taut fabric, emblazoned with a faint silver impression of the Starfleet insignia, blonde hair and an appealing masculine scent she knew all too well. Her instant subconscious reaction killed all notion of attacking the person in front of her instantly.

Those few days ago, when she had messaged Kirk, she hadn't been lying. She really _did_ know his aftershave.

"James-?"

"_V_-!"

Jim's hand snapped out and grasped the wrist of the arm that wasn't blocking his way, his grip gentle in spite of his panic, the pads of his fingers sliding under her sleeve and seeking bare skin, using her as an anchor. The look that passed between them lasted for only the briefest moment, giving the other two trespassers just enough time to spill onto the bridge, close on his heels, before Kirk looked directly at Pike.

"Captain Pike! We have to stop the ship!"

"Kirk- how the _hell_ did you get on board the _Enterprise_?" Pike demanded with admirable composure, considering that his protégé had just stormed the bridge of a ship aboard which his mere presence was an infraction.

McCoy hastily cut in. "Captain, this man is under the influence of a severe reaction to a vaccine, and I take full responsibility-"

"Vulcan is not experiencing a natural disaster!" Kirk addressed his mentor directly, ignoring McCoy's valiant attempt to salvage his rapidly deteriorating situation, the natural commanding tone he possessed plating his voice with hot steel. "It's being attacked by Romulans."

Valravn's head snapped towards him, her mind working quickly, fed by alarm rather than paralysed by it, mentally calculating probabilities and searching him for any sign that McCoy's attempted explanation had been in any way truthful.

"Romulans?" Pike's expression was hard. "Cadet Kirk, I think you've had enough attention for one day- McCoy, take him back to medical. We'll have words later-"

Valravn saw a flash of raw panic in Jim's eyes. The normally tranquil oceanic colour of his irises was churning with a desperate undercurrent, full of fire- but Valravn could detect no trace of feverish delusion inside them; they were as lucid and clear as ever.

Valravn knew Jim Kirk, and his eyes did not- _could_ not- lie to her.

"Captain, I think we should hear Cadet Kirk out," she said almost without thinking.

"And what are you basing _that_ on, Lieutenant Winter?" Pike asked, his tone severe. Valravn, glad that she had a genuine answer, stepped out of Kirk's loose grasp and positioned herself in front of him protectively.

"On the fact that I know of a transmission that could potentially support the theory of a Romulan attack on Vulcan," she replied unhesitatingly. Pike raised an eyebrow, unrelentingly sceptical, knowing that she was an expert at appearing to be nothing other than certain. "Four days ago, I was in the long-range sensor laboratory with Lieutenant Uhura when she intercepted and decoded a distress signal from the Klingon prison planet. An armada of forty-seven Klingon warbirds was destroyed by a single distinctive Romulan vessel-"

Valravn felt a breath of air at her back. "And Captain, the same anomaly-"

"_Kirk_-" Pike ground out furiously. Valravn knocked her heeled boot back against Kirk's shin, urging him to step down and remain silent before she was ordered to escort him off the bridge. She made the most subtle of motions towards McCoy, urging him to beat a hasty retreat back to his post, and leave the mitigation for their mutual friend's actions in her hands. The doctor nodded minutely, his stare urging her to do what she could, and made an unnoticed exit.

"Cadet Kirk is not cleared to be aboard this ship, Captain," Spock intervened upon the increasingly heated conversation, as carefully and inflexibly neutral as ever. "Starfleet regulation makes him-"

Jim seethed with profound sarcasm, stepping past Valravn, who was caught in the crossfire of the restrictions of her rank and the increasingly uneasy feeling that something was genuinely amiss. "Look, I get it, you're a great arguer, I'd love to do it with you again sometime, but this is actually a-"

"- I'm sure either Lieutenant Winter or myself can remove him-" Spock continued without breaking stride.

"_Try it_!" Kirk exploded, his temper spilling over violently. "This cadet is trying to save the bridge!"

"By recommending a full stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?"

"It's not a rescue mission," Kirk turned back to Pike, his voice low and urgent. "It's an attack."

"Based on what _facts_?" Spock challenged him with dispassionate force.

Jim's eyes flared, and hardened fiercely as they locked upon the commander. Valravn saw a muscle in his jaw flicker dangerously. The moment of silence was deafening, embroidered by the low drone of idling consoles and the breathing of those on the bridge.

"That same anomaly that has been reported today- _a lightning storm in space_- also occurred on the day of my birth," Kirk announced coldly, "before a Romulan ship attacked the U.S.S. _Kelvin_. You know that, sir," he appealed to Pike again, "I read your dissertation. That ship, which had formidable and advanced weaponry, was never seen or heard from again. The _Kelvin_ was attacked on the edge of Klingon space, and just as Val- Lieutenant Winter said, at twenty-three hundred hours, four days ago, there was an attack. Forty-seven warbirds destroyed by one massive Romulan ship."

"And you know of this attack," Pike's eyes slid over his niece knowingly, "_how_?"

"Cadet Kirk was present when Lieutenant Uhura and I were discussing it later that night," Valravn supplied unwaveringly, glancing over towards the young woman hovering a few feet away from the motley cluster of officers. "She was asking my opinion on the information she had translated, given the unusual content- to see if it was genuine."

Another captain might have debated whether a pre-graduate had enough knowledge of various areas of combat to provide analysis of weaponry and combatants solely from a distress signal, but fortunately, Pike knew better than to question Valravn's extensive knowledge. He turned, instead, an evaluative stare on Uhura.

"Everything Lieutenant Winter has said is true, sir. I intercepted the transmission myself," Uhura confirmed with a glance at Valravn, "and I relayed the details fully to Lieutenant Winter for her analysis. I believe she did mention, at the time, that there were certain similarities between the calibre of weaponry that was reported from the attack on the _Kelvin_ and the information gleaned from this incident. Her report- and Kirk's- are both accurate."

"We're warping into a trap, sir." Kirk said evenly, vehemence still heavily present, contained behind a calm veneer. "The Romulans will be waiting for us at Vulcan, I promise you that."

Pike processed this in stony silence, his gaze first falling from Kirk's to Valravn's, before finally settling upon that of his executive officer. Spock betrayed no hint of the thoughts whirring away behind his dark eyes, until he spoke. "The cadet's logic is sound," he declared without acrimony, the perfect Vulcan reply. "And Lieutenant Uhura is unmatched in xenolinguistics. We would be wise to accept her conclusion. Lieutenant Winter's as well, given her extensive proficiency in her field."

That was enough for Pike- having witnessed their intellectual clash earlier at the academy, he knew that Spock would not cede the point unless he saw a tangible thread of logic. "Scan Vulcan space," he ordered. "Check for any transmissions in Romulan."

"Sir, I'm not sure I can distinguish the Romulan language from Vulcan," the chief communications officer spoke up. It was of no surprise; many communications officers were linguists, but not all, and the differentiation between Romulan and Vulcan dialects were notoriously difficult even for those that were, thanks to their shared ancestry.

"What about you?" Pike directed towards Uhura, thinking quickly. "You speak Romulan- Cadet-?"

"Uhura," the xenolinguist supplied. "All three dialects, sir."

"Uhura, relieve the lieutenant."

She took the sudden and daunting assignment with admirable grace. "Yes, sir."

"Anity," Pike called over his shoulder, "hail the U.S.S. _Truman_."

Valravn dragged in a deep steadying breath, swallowing down the new spark of anxiety in her veins. If Kirk was right, and this was a hostile situation facing the same vessel that had annihilated the U.S.S. _Kelvin_ twenty-five years ago, the weight of her duties had immediately tripled. Her heart constricted as she mentally ran through the scenarios they now faced.

Valravn felt a hand slide into hers and grip, briefly but firmly.

Without looking up at Kirk, she tightened her fingers around his in return.

"The other ships are out of warp, sir, and have arrived at Vulcan," the officer replied to her captain with a ripple of concern, "but we- we seem to have lost all contact."

"Sir, I'm not picking up any Romulan transmissions," Uhura reported from her new station, eyes distant as she listened carefully, and flickering with puzzlement. "Or transmission of any kind in the area."

"Then it's extremely like that they're being attacked," Valravn stated darkly, her eyes unwavering from her uncle's.

Pike gazed back at her. She was stood stubbornly at Kirk's side, but her voice and expression were both cold and calculated, those of a Starfleet security officer.

Making his way back to the command chair, Pike kept his voice as stable as a captain's always should be when relaying orders.

"Shields up. Red Alert."

The bridge became a flurry of efficient motion. Valravn darted back to her terminal, brushing past Kirk and retaking her seat, sending out the immediate order for all of her teams to brace for possible hostilities, and placing the ship-wide security status on Red Alert. She caught Chekov raising shields on the periphery of her vision, and quietly calibrated the vessel's weapons to her controls.

"Arrival at Vulcan in five seconds," Sulu announced.

Valravn chanced one last look over her shoulder. and saw Spock and Kirk stood behind the captain's chair, exchanging a fleeting unreadable glance.

Whether Jim was right or wrong about this attack- there was a battle ahead. The only real difference would be whether it was combat to the death in the field or in another Starfleet tribunal. Valravn froze over, becoming ice and steel incarnate, preparing for either outcome.

She looked forwards.

"Three… two-"

A twisted, blackened fragment of the U.S.S. _Defiant_'s hull hurtled at the view screen.


End file.
